bend me, break me  SuitGuyPOV
by dariachenowith
Summary: The alternate POV of 'bend me, break me', written for my FGB team, now for everyone to enjoy! Dark, violent, OOC/AH, read with caution. M-rated for gory violence & smut


This story was written for my FGB Team, TeamBMBM, for the Fandom Gives Back auction in 2010. Thank you for helping such a worthy cause!

First and foremost I need to thank L - she forced me to write it, she held my hand through every step of the way, and I'm sure she'll gladly take the blame!

A huge thank you goes to Alex (you might know him as AonL here and on twitter) for his encouragement and comments, and for creating the awesome banner for me that you can see on the blog - dariachenowith (dot) blogspot (dot) com. He's also working on turning BMBM into a graphic novel, hence the style of the banner.

I'm also grateful for C's cheerleading, commenting, and general being a kickass friend! ISBH did a great job beta-ing this tour de force for me.

**Please notice that this is the alternative POV of 'bend me, break me' - you should have read that first before you read this fic! If the subject goes against your delicate sensibilities, please don't read it.**

- I hope you enjoy it!

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><p><strong>bend me, break me - Suit Guy POV<strong>

I didn't notice her at first. Quite frankly, I had other things on my mind.

Nothing ever goes according to plan.

I knew that, but still it grated that with this operation, there was barely a thing that _had_ happened in the manner of its planning. We had had to exchange staff, switch locations, change our hideout, and last but not least postpone the mission altogether. If I had been the superstitious type, I would have started to believe this whole undertaking cursed or doomed. Of course that wasn't the case – either of the scenarios – but so many changes always bring a huge potential for fuck ups. I always planned every mission with a lot of leeway to stay adaptable and several steps ahead of the 'serve and protect' crowd, but this time there probably was too much room for things to go downhill.

There is one thing that can make the difference between failure and success – and that is a strong leader.

I've never been the type to quote the same old, lame phrases like every other wanna-be leader in the world, so no Sun-Tzu from me. He probably knew what he was talking about, I couldn't say, I've never had the pleasure of studying his work. But the fact is, once the cat is out of the house, the mice roam free and dance, as a German proverb so aptly states. I knew that _this_ cat would never leave the mice with the incentive to act on their own accord at such a vital stage in the game.

So I found myself in the waiting area of the bank we had selected as our latest target. I didn't even pretend to read the _Wall Street Journal_ I had brought with me, just made sure that the title lettering was displayed for anyone curious to see. By association, my choice of decoy reading material made me invisible in this place – just another worker drone waiting to beg for mercy or herd his not exactly well earned proceedings.

No one noticed that my boots weren't exactly standard worker drone gear, nor that the concealed Kevlar vest bulked up my torso disproportionately. Over the fifty-four minutes that I spent observing from my perch no one noticed my barely hidden guns in their holsters, nor wondered at all why I didn't join the constant string of people presenting their cases to the capable accountants.

Of course I saw her enter the building, shoulders hunched while she kept moving her lips in what I figured was an absentminded attempt to bring her thoughts in order. She didn't strike me as the type who would cause us any trouble so I disregarded her after a cursory glance, returning to my silent calculations. Twenty more minutes, maybe thirty, and the last two guards would be exchanged to increase the number of our people to nine. Enough to cause a ruckus, probably not enough to make everything go smoothly if the response team was unnaturally fast, but it was a solid number.

With nothing else to observe my attention kept straying to her, for whatever reason. Boredom maybe. I was well aware of the fact that right before that adrenaline kick I lived for, my mind usually became easily distracted, so I didn't try to force myself to focus on anything else. After all, watching a moderately beautiful woman wasn't any less preferable than pretending to read this insipid pretense of a newspaper.

She didn't exactly pique my interest until she was next for consultation, and three words into the conversation she lost most of the fleeting allure for me – business as usual. She certainly was pleasing to the eye, but that seemed the extent of what could have drawn me to her – and quite frankly, that was by far not enough to hold my attention.

I've always had a complicated relationship with women, at least as far as sexual interest was concerned. I never gave a shit about that fleeting value that seemed to be all consuming for some – beauty. Young or old, reed thin or quite chunky, flawless or hideous hag, the outer shell of people – women included – had always been just that to me, a shell. Enough money could take care of all those imperfections and blemishes, and those who used those means usually achieved the opposite of what they aimed for. Of course I wasn't blind to the natural attraction inherent to most of the members of our species, but it has been more than a decade since I started considering myself above such low urges. When I needed satisfaction, I either took care of that myself or paid a whore to do so – both yielding the same result in the end, while leaving the mind completely unfulfilled.

It was in college that I first noticed that what drew me to people in general was their mind, their intellect and opinions. Sadly, very few women could hold my attention for long, long enough at least to draw me in to want to know more about them. Up until now I had only ever met a single woman who I felt connected to, and there was absolutely nothing sexual about that attraction. She had become my closest friend and most trustworthy compatriot in this struggle, but aside from that, as far as I was concerned she could have had a cock instead of ovaries.

Yet as the minutes ticked by, I felt myself compelled to keep looking at the girl in the bank over and over again, to the point where I got up and assumed the last place in the short line to be close enough not to miss a single word she said.

That's when I realized that she was one of the few people who were a lot more than what met the eye. She looked and spoke all proper – boring – but underneath that pleasant surface there was steel and strength, and the more agitated she became, the more it started to show. The set of her jaw, the expression in her eyes, her straight posture, and of course the words tumbling over her lips – all that hinted that she had a truly beautiful mind, buried under a set of conventions forced there by decades of mind-washing.

Then the tool this institute thought worthy enough to burden with responsibility started accusing her of being a mindless air-head, and her tongue lashed out at him sharp as a well-honed blade.

"Do you ever think about why our country is going down? Because of people like you! I always wondered how it came to be that perfectly normal people snapped, but you make me see how that's possible!"

Her words painted a smirk onto my face, but it was quickly washed away by sadness. Already the supervisor had called for the guards to escort her outside, and I knew that in five seconds, ten tops, she would have walked out of my sight, and out of my life. Almost immediately I called myself out on my own pansy bullshit, but the damage was done, my attention stuck to her. I knew my mind wouldn't just let go of her, and the last thing I needed today was a distraction like this.

There were, of course, perks to being a strong leader. One of them was the fact that it was in my right to speed things up.

Scanning the crowd I felt my body go still, while my mind kicked into overdrive. I could only see one of the regular guards still on duty, the other most likely already reclused to the donut vendor around the corner. Six of my people were in place, enough to make things progress as planned.

"Survival of the fittest, my ass, no wonder things are going down the drain when assholes like that are in charge," I heard her mutter as she turned away, deliberately ignoring the fuming tool trying to attract the attention of his minions.

That statement, of course, deserved a response.

"An interesting point you make there. Reminds me of Alain Badiou when he said that 'Liberal capitalism is not at all the Good of humanity. Quite the contrary; it is the vehicle of savage, destructive nihilism.' Don't you agree?"

She stopped in her tracks and turned around to face me, her pupils dilating with shock and maybe something else when her gaze fell on me. Her momentary stare got my hopes sinking, as it was too close to what I had seen over and over from women when they met me – not that I was one to disregard the primal force of physical attraction driven by our inherent mating instinct, but if that was all a woman saw in me, I didn't even ask for her name.

Before I could lose interest, though, she shook her head as if to clear it, then her eyes, shining with the intelligence that had inexplicably drawn me to her in the first place, focused on my face.

"Sounds like the justification of someone about to run amok. Or as Timothy Leary would say, 'Civilization is unbearable, but it is less unbearable at the top.'"

The way she bit off every word of the quote made the sentence ring even truer, and in turn solidified my resolve that I wasn't ready to let her go, just like that. It didn't even occur to me to adhere to any of the usual social conventions – ask her name, number, take her out on three dates before I finally got to fuck her into oblivion – but instead I did her the courtesy of considering what she just said.

"I think you are right again."

"Why, you about to pull out a gun and start shooting people at random?"

It was eerie how accurate her assessment of me was although we had barely exchanged twenty words, and I couldn't help donning a cocky grin as I answered.

"You know how you sometimes look back and think something like 'why did I have to say that'? For the record, don't."

A slight frown appeared on her forehead as her brows knit together, incomprehension warring with the possibilities my words without a doubt conjured up in her mind. I still held her gaze with my own when I pressed the button on my watch, alerting all the other members of my team that I was about to start our mission, whether they were prepared or not. The only verbal feedback I got came – how else could it have been – from that idiot Number Nine, but with a slow exhale I forced my mind to blank his low curses out.

I had a purpose to fulfill, and right in front of me a reason to survive at least the next few hours.

My fingers closing around my SIG brought a comfortable sense of familiarity with the contact, and within the space between seconds I was ready – my body calm while my brain called for the adrenaline to be released into my blood stream, my mind focused and empty except for the sequence of tasks ahead. I felt no excitement as I drew the gun – this was just a beginning, one step of many. Routine. And still I hesitated for the fraction of a second, suddenly loath to turn away from her. In that moment she – or anyone else watching, for that matter – could have killed me easily for my guard was down. The moment passed, and so did her last chance of evading me.

I let the deafening sound of the gunshots I fired towards the ceiling drag me back into the here and now, forcing myself to step into the center of everyone's attention. I didn't care for anyone's admiration so naturally I wasn't keen on speaking to the crowds, but months of repetition had killed even the last lick of stage fright I'd ever harbored before. In the moment I pulled the trigger I became something else, something more, a symbol of my mission, and part of me even craved that.

The last thing I noticed before I turned to speak to the frightened crowd were her eyes, now huge and full of stunned panic, the animal part of her brain ready to bolt and flee while the more evolved thought processes kept her locked in place.

The words were so familiar by now it was easy to utter them fluidly, without thinking, letting my scorn drip freely towards the end.

"Ladies and Gentleman, may I please have your attention? As you may have guessed, this is in fact a bank robbery. I would like to direct your awareness to the fact that banks are very highly insured, so it is unnecessary, and even discouraged, for any one of you to believe that you need to be a hero today. Do yourself a favor and lie down on the floor with your hands behind your head.

"We are not here to hurt anyone, nor to take your possessions. Stay calm and this will be over before you know it. If no one acts up, this disturbance of your bland every day life will be over in just a few minutes."

I nearly laughed at how easily they all followed my instructions, like lemmings going over the cliff. When I glanced back at her I saw her still standing, stiff like a pillar of salt, but she quickly followed the others when I nodded towards the floor and mouthed a single word – 'down'. Her face was still blank so I figured she was at the shock side of her 'what the fuck' moment, which was probably for the best.

Banishing her from my mind for good I walked across the room, my combat boots echoing loudly on the granite floor. My associates all sprang into action, everyone ready to do their part of the operation. So far, so good.

Number One walked forward with the C-4, starting to unpack it, more for show than actual use as all of the charges that needed to be detonated to ensure a safe getaway for us were already planted and armed. He wasn't done yet when Nine came back from the direction of the vault and deposit boxes, cursing as he took off the cap of his guard uniform.

"Fuck, they sealed the vault!"

The news wasn't exactly surprising, and I felt a twinge of exhilaration that this gave me the perfect excuse to go toe to toe with the idiot who had acted all high and mighty to the girl with the brown eyes before.

Turning to the bank staff, who, without fail, were huddled on the floor, following their safety protocol to a T, I scanned them, then let my gaze settle on the likely cause for our financial loss.

"You're the manager here?" I drawled, quite elated when he scrambled to his feet and squeaked his answer like the rat he was. "You just engaged the locks on the vault?"

Of course my question was as much part of the act as everything else – I already knew that it had been him who had done that, and by pressing that panic button he had also alerted the local authorities. Ten minutes tops until they would arrive, so I guessed we had another five minutes to wrap everything up. Lots of time.

The emphatic nod of the douchebag in front of me, followed by his declaration, drew my attention back to him.

"And I will not disengage them! No one else knows the combination, and you will only get inside over my cold, dead body!"

That could certainly be arranged.

"Guess who cares?" I asked rhetorically, then pulled the trigger of the SIG repeatedly, watching with the usual morbid fascination as blood and brain matter exploded from the back of his head, painting floor, walls, and previous fellow employees in ghastly beautiful red.

I much preferred killing with the knife, as it was clean and precise, but even I had to admit that execution style kills had a certain appeal.

As usual, my blatant disregard for human life had the convenient effect of culling any sparks of rebellion in the others, their eyes now bleak as they stared up at me, tools waiting to be ordered to do something.

"I take it he told the truth in his unfounded arrogance and none of you know the combination?"

They shook their heads in unison, making me smirk because they clearly expected my anger in return. Tools indeed.

"Then please be so kind and hand over the money from the drawers so our efforts are not completely in vain. And it bears repeating, there is really no reason for hero antics today. But trust me, I really don't give a shit either way."

The last part I said entirely for the benefit of the other near lifeless forms lying on the floor. It only took a few whispered words and a victim was chosen, a boy barely old enough to shave who was shaking like leaves in the wind while he emptied the money into a nondescript black bag. He looked ready to faint when he handed it over, then quickly resumed his place among his peers, who had been so eager to condemn him before.

Five had meanwhile stowed away our meager booty inside the bag that had held the explosives, while One returned from the direction of the vault.

"I've rigged the door, but I don't think it will do any real damage," he explained, then added as a snide remark, "Except maybe to the building, if they fucked up the statics like with the last one."

I silently agreed with him that there was no way we'd get our hands onto what lay now sealed beyond tons of steel and technology, so I went on to the next part.

"Detonator is set?"

"T minus ten after you hit the trigger."

I acknowledged that, then turned back to address the room when I heard a gun go off at my back. A quick glance revealed Sixteen, standing over a man now writhing on the floor, holding his stomach where blood was seeping onto the floor. A few quick steps and I was hunched over him, staring into his panic filled eyes as I held up the gun he had dropped when he got his extra dose of iron.

"Did you really think you could take us out with a measly Beretta?" I taunted, then checked the ammo. "Your magazine's not even full."

It was idiots like him who were hell bent on screwing up my operations, and it had been a long while since last I had suffered fools gladly. I didn't feel an ounce of remorse when I shot him in the face, his body jerking once before it went still with the tell-tale scent of the result of all of his muscles relaxing.

I straightened and caught Five's eye, then threw the gun at him to store with the money. No sense in wasting a perfectly good 9mm.

"How many?" One inquired, as usual sticking to routine and trying not to screw up our time plan.

"Make it ten," I mused. "We ran out of 'em too fast last time."

Taking hostages was a more complicated business than I had expected, and as I should have before, I trusted One to select the right ones. He had a good eye for people, and at his nods Five and Nine started dragging seemingly random men to their feet. I didn't wait for him to complete the task but walked over to where the brown-haired girl still lay on the floor, not even shaking like most of the other women. I definitely liked that hint of strength, but told myself to hold my horses as I knew all too well that it could have been a sign of shock.

She only made a small sound when I grabbed her arm and pulled her into an upright position, looking deep into her eyes, searching. They were wide with fright, no surprise there, but she held my gaze, didn't try to evade me. Promising.

"Don't be afraid, you're a smart girl, smart enough to fling quotes around when you're upset, you should be smart enough not to fuck up. In five days it will be over for you, and I'm even sure they'll suspend your mortgage payment for a few extra days now that you've been so utterly traumatized by a bunch of freaks."

The lies left my lips without effort, or bad conscience for that matter. Even I knew it was an insane endeavor to expect her to be even remotely attracted to me after what she had watched me do, but I couldn't leave her locked inside the travesty that she called life. I waited for her to verbally acknowledge my words but she just nodded, her gaze remaining haunted without the glint of steel that had drawn me to her before.

Either way, my decision was final, and after donning a confident smile I pushed her towards where the other hostages huddled like a gaggle of geese. She slumped down next to the bank employee who she had been begging with before, now united in spirit with her.

A quick glance at my watch revealed that we were right on time, four minutes and seventy-four seconds after I had started the mission. Every second counted, I knew that, and the paranoid part of my mind was already listening for the distant wail of sirens.

Turning to my audience, I proceeded to the last part of our operation – a clean getaway.

Heads turned towards me, saucer huge eyes stared at me, hanging on my every sentence. It was tempting to add a few choice words of advice, but in the end I knew it was for naught, so I stuck to the usual.

"I am very sorry to have inconvenienced you with my little undertaking here, but I hope you can somehow move on with your insignificant, boring lives. I would like to inform you that in nine minutes and forty seconds the C-4 we have placed on the doors of the vault will detonate, so for the sake of survival I would run if I were you. Have a nice day, and a less meaningless rest of your life."

They were up and off the floor, scrambling for the exit before I was done giving my team the 'go' signal, and we left the room in total chaos with our frightened quarry getting dragged along between us. None of them put up a fight – between all the blood and the promise of certain death by explosion they seemed docile enough.

I felt my shoulders relax a little when I saw that the downstairs parking space was still empty of cops, and I nodded at One and Five to start with prepping the hostages for their long ride in the trunks of the cars while I turned to them.

"If you're lucky and don't mess up, all of you will be free by the end of the week." I let my eyes roam over all of them, taking the time to make eye contact with each and every one to convey just how serious I was. "My advice to you is simple - don't act up. We will proceed now to make sure that you can't get away, and bring you to a secure location. Any resistance on your part will be met with severe brutality. I think you all got a demonstration of how little I value your lives, so for your own sake, don't make me prove my point again."

It was harder than I liked to admit to keep from singling her out, and only when most of them were already equipped with the duct tape and sacks over their heads did I allow myself to look at the brown-haired girl. As if she felt my eyes on her she locked her gaze with mine, her fear giving way to something else for a moment. Then she was blindfolded and bundled up like the rest as Five locked her into the trunk of one of the SUVs, and I turned to slide and take my place behind the wheel of one of the smaller cars. One quickly checked all the trunks, then knocked on each of the cars to send them off before he got into the passenger seat next to me.

"Let's haul ass!"

And haul ass I did.

Xxxx

Paranoia had me checking the mirrors periodically for miles, but no cars were following us, and twenty minutes after leaving the city limits behind I allowed myself to relax. It's a 'known' fact derived from watching too many action movies that the 'good guys' always arrive just on time to hunt down the 'bad guys' to bring them to 'justice'. I've been disappointed a lot waiting for that to happen, but as it was, even in larger cities the authorities sometimes took hours to arrive on scene, long after the dirt churned up by our get-away cars had settled again. Using nondescript cars and popular tires turned out to make us virtually untraceable after splitting up. This time was no different, and once One got off the phone and told me that the other two vehicles made it out without any grave problems I switched on the radio, letting the refined sounds fabricated by Tool fill the car.

"So, what's up with that girl?" he finally broke the silence, stopping his air guitar moves to regard me levelly.

I shrugged, reluctant to look away from the road to meet his inquisitive gaze. I hadn't expected him to notice.

"What do you mean?"

"Hey, don't shut down on me now. I've known you for what, four years now? In all that time the only emotion you ever displayed towards women that any other man might feel attracted to is disgust. You never just talk to anyone. And you seldom pick out any of the hostages. I might not be as all-observant as you are, but I'd have to be blind not to notice how you were looking at her."

"Fuck off," I succinctly told him, but he just laughed. "Your girlfriend doesn't strike me as the type to experiment with women, and seeing as you just grew a vagina, she might get a little bored."

That at least seemed to shut him up, but not for long.

"You know this is doomed from the start? Either watching you execute that jerk right in front of her will have quenched anything she might have felt for you, or she's so traumatized that you can't expect anything she says or does to be real. As much as I don't really care, she doesn't deserve to be next in line to fertilize the ground just because you see something in her that just isn't there."

"Are you calling me delusional?"

I could see him hesitate before he answered.

"Not outright, I'm not that stupid. But it's obvious that she has caught your eye. Just trying to keep things civil."

His words summed up what most of my mind had been mulling over since I had allowed myself to relax, but I couldn't admit that he was, most likely, right.

"What if she's different? More like me?"

"Dude, no one's like you. Just don't, you know, do anything stupid in the name of love or something."

I couldn't believe we of all people were having this conversation.

"Love?" I huffed, getting a wry grin in return.

"Screw up badly just because your brain hands over control to your dick. If you have to, just fuck her, then go on with life. Easy."

For a moment I felt the impulse to tell him in detail just where he could shove his advice, but then figured my silence was the better response. One seemed to think along the same lines as he remained quiet, probably guessing he was leaving me to some fantasy or other of what I could do with and to the girl with the expressive brown eyes.

Not that the thought didn't cross my mind, but first things first. Getting the hostages to our hideout and locking them away had a higher priority than other insane ideas.

The car ate the miles smoothly and we were only twenty minutes from the derelict jail when loud pounding coming from the direction of the trunk dragged us out of our companionable silence.

"What the fuck?" One exclaimed when the pounding ceased but was replaced by a muffled but surprisingly loud scream.

Checking the rear view mirror I swerved from the main road onto a gravel path leading around a few low hills until we were out of sight, then killed the engine and strode around the car, waiting there for One to open the trunk.

One of our three captives, wearing jeans and a cotton jacket, lay hunched in on himself pressed against the far side of the trunk, unmoving even though he must have realized that we had come to a stop. The other two, sadly, hadn't gotten the memo explaining how to best survive a hostage situation.

They both wore the whole suit, dress shoes and tie ensemble, one in a nondescript black, the other a light charcoal. The one in black was screaming and trying to kick out, but the tape around his legs held, leaving him barely enough freedom of movement to throw his whole body around. The other was equally noisy but remained lying still for the most part, at least after he felt fresh air rush into the compartment.

One and I briefly exchanged glances, and at his shrug I hit the inside of the trunk cover hard with my fist, demanding their attention.

"If you don't stop making such a ruckus, I'll off you. Don't tempt me."

The calmer of the two stopped his grunting but my words seemed to bounce right off the other. Not hesitating for a moment I reached in and grabbed Charcoal's arm to drag him outside, then doing the same with the other. Between us we could barely keep him from kicking out, which in my eyes sealed his fate. I still wrenched the hood off his head, and at my nod One did the same to the other guy.

"Last chance. Calm down this very moment."

Not surprisingly he ignored my warning, and making sure the one in the gray suit got a good view I drew out my gun and pulled the trigger once. It would have been hard to miss at such a short distance, but I still allowed myself a satisfied grin when I hit him right between the eyes. His body instantly stopped writhing as it hit the ground, blood seeping from what remained of the back of his head, which wasn't much.

Turning back to the other guy, I fixed my gaze on his face, letting my contentment slowly drain from my features. He looked a little green but calmer than I had expected, and for a moment I wondered if I hadn't shot the wrong guy. My decision had been easy – with six hostages to spare we didn't have to suffer anyone bent on causing trouble in the first place – but I hadn't taken the time to make sure he was actually the one causing the fuss.

Not that I really cared. And if I was wrong, I could always remedy that mistake later.

Stuffing the witness of my knee jerk reaction back into the trunk after securing the hood on his head once more we resumed our trek, leaving the corpse for the vultures. I knew there was a minimal risk someone might find him, but I figured it was a long stretch to match him with anyone we had snatched up, and it was nearly impossible to deduct from where we had dumped him to where we were going. Our 'escape' routes were planned to be long, winding and misleading, and so far that plan had always worked.

We were the first car to arrive at our destination, and I noticed with satisfaction that I could only make out the sentries after they hailed me, giving away their location. Two was already waiting for us, shading her eyes against the glare of the sun with a hand over her eyes. She joined us when we got out of the car, giving us a whispered update on the progress the police were making.

"The media coverage is less than we're used to, but that probably means they've alerted the FBI and Marshals early in the game and are suppressing new leaked information for now. You also did minimal damage to the building but from what one of the reporters said destroyed the front part of the vault."

"Peanuts," One scoffed, making Two roll her eyes at him.

"Considering it wasn't really the plan to wreck havoc I'd say it is sufficient. Right?"

I shrugged, not giving a damn either way.

"Any news from our inside people?"

"None yet, but that just means they got your warning when you told them you'd send their dossiers to their superiors if they didn't keep radio silence until they were sure any communication would go undetected."

Some of my associates – unsurprisingly Nine among them – had marveled that I didn't really trust the handful of defected agents who had joined our cause months ago, compared to the freelance mercenaries the rest of us were, more or less. Why I had to spell out that it was entirely possible that someone might try to turn our game – infiltrating the 'good guys' – around on us was beyond me. But even I had to admit, the intel they brought in made the risk worth it. And if one of them turned out to be a triple agent, fighting our way out of our hideout for once might make things interesting.

Another of our vehicles appeared on the long dirt track leading to the prison, and Two went back inside, more than ready to get out of the glaring sunshine. I waited diligently for the others to arrive, each team making it on time. I expected Nine to be late with some insane tale about running a red light and consequently having to gun down a whole squad of police men to escape, but this time at least he hadn't fucked up. He still seemed way too excited for his own good when I finally gave the order to unload the hostages, but heaving bodies out of trunks kept him occupied enough.

I could feel One's gaze resting on me when I briefly checked the hostages for outright signs of injury, and did my best not to linger next to the brown-haired woman. After giving the order to have their leg restraints cut I turned around and went ahead into the building, letting the flunkies bring them into their home for the next days.

Quickly making my way through the corridors and up into the third story I picked up new magazines for my weapons, then swung by our central communications room further up another flight of stairs, making sure that all the cameras were set and running, the feeds ready to be saved onto the server's hard drive. Following the progress of the ragtag band of people being led inside on the screen I took off my suit jacket and tie, unbuttoning the shirt at the collar to finally stop getting strangled. Under the wig my hair was a sweaty mess, and though fake, I was happy to get rid of the glasses, too. I had used the very same disguise four times already, but apparently it made me look respectable enough that no one ever cared to take a second look at me.

Last I ditched the heavy holster bearing my guns, switching one SIG for the Beretta at the small of my back. Not that I expected to use it so soon but I felt naked with just my knife and the backup Browning strapped to my calf.

One, Five and Nine were busy rigging the hostages with the sensors and dismantling their restraints when I joined them. Our remaining guests were all huddled against two walls of the cell, looking frightened and to a certain degree hopeless. While I let my gaze roam over all of them, memorizing their faces for good this time, I peeled off the fake beard, feeling infinitesimally more like myself when all the layers of deception were gone.

My eyes inevitably returned to where she sat, staring up at me while her fingers kept digging into the denim of her jeans. She looked away a moment later, a downright sheepish expression on her face, and I turned my attention back to the others. I still caught her frowning, as if something was either puzzling or bothering her greatly. Then again the position she found herself in right now probably gave her a multitude of reasons for strong emotions, or deficiency thereof.

Forcing my posture to become a little more commanding I looked at each prisoner in turn, before I launched into my prepared speech.

All of them shuddered when I explained to them why there were only nine of them left instead of ten, and that we only needed four in the end. None of them batted an eyelash when I repeated that I didn't give a shit about their antics, nor cared about any notions about what would happen to them here, only required of them to do exactly what they were told.

When I got to the part about their rigged shackles two of the men looked ready to bolt right away, making me groan inwardly. I even contemplated pretending to be unfocused so one of them might be stupid enough to try to run – a firsthand demonstration would have made more impact than my words after all – but decided against it. Even scared as they all seemed, there was a certain tension in the air that I felt didn't need my incentive to fruition into real trouble; It was always more fun to let things unfold unprovoked. And that they would unfold I knew without a doubt.

Staring at each of them in turn again, I proceeded to the necessities of their daily life as it was to be as of now.

"You will be provided with water aplenty and two meals a day - that should keep you sufficiently nourished for your stay in this establishment. I don't think I need to explain the purpose of the bucket and old newspaper over there. You will have to make do without the luxuries of privacy or lavish personal hygiene, which brings me to another point."

I nodded at the bucket, then singled out the guy who had barely escaped the fate of hostage number ten.

"It's in your own best interest to try to uphold the standards of civilization you all were brought up with. We have no intention of breaching any of them unless you provoke us. We will not beat you, we will not torture you, we will not rape any of you."

Allowing myself a small smile, I then went on with the schedule we were going to impose on them.

"I advise you to keep low and try to make the following days as easy on yourself and your fellow inmates as possible. If we feel the need to bring order back into this cell, it will happen at a toll. Don't provoke us."

I knew already that I would have to demonstrate this claim in the future, at least once. For some reason I always had to.

"Any questions?"

None of them had yet regained their voice, which was not surprising, and I acknowledged that with a nod.

"Good. Then if you're the praying sort, ask your God to deliver reason onto your fellow comrades here, because they will more likely be the cause for your demise than any of us."

With that I left them alone, the others following on my heels. I didn't stay to make sure they would engage the locks – and the additional motion activated alarm – but headed straight for the lower floor where we had settled in for the time being.

The common room was quite busy, several of the off-duty sentries playing cards while Seven sat by the door, cleaning her AK-47. I steered clear of her on my way to the armory where I checked on our current ammo stash. Sufficient, if not as high as I would have preferred.

A quick nod from Two let me excuse myself and I went on further into the compound, until I reached the shower room we had cleared for ourselves. As we had been here for over a week already some of the guys had insisted on rigging one of the showers to the generator, allowing for at least a few gallons of warm water, but I dismissed such frivolities on principle.

The cold water stung on my hot, sweat-crusted skin but I welcomed the bite, feeling every nerve ending in my whole body fire repeatedly while my muscles hardened in response to the harsh change in temperature. Once this operation was over I might allow myself a week or two of idle downtime with luxuries like fluffy towels and long soaks in a hotel pool, but until then there was no time for that. I knew I had to stay sharp, keep pushing everyone to perform at their best, and as their leader I had to be an example they could measure themselves against.

After finishing my refreshing shower I donned a clean set of clothes, the usual t-shirt and cargo pants, and went back up into the com room, not surprised to find One camped in front of the screen, munching on a bowl of popcorn. He nodded at me when I sank into a free chair beside him, only taking his eyes off the video feeds for a second.

"I'd offer you some but I know you will decline, so I'll spare my breath," he informed me, then blindly groped for his bottle of coke and took a swig.

"If that were your intention, you would just have shut up in the first place."

He shrugged, that infuriating sunny boy grin lighting up his face.

"What can I say, I love hearing myself talk! A character trait we seem to share, I've come to recognize."

This time I ignored his jibe, and instead leaned down to the portable fridge for a beer.

"Anything remarkable happen while I hit the shower?"

"Nope."

"Anything unremarkable?"

"Nope," he repeated, then gestured with his bowl of popcorn at the screen. "They're still in the dumbstruck phase. None of them so much as moved yet. I'll give them another ten minutes before they reach the rage and disbelief stage."

Enjoying a few moments of companionable silence we both watched the screen, before he spoke up again.

"Bet you ten bucks the guy from the car is the first to get up, pace, then scream his fucking head off to vent some of his frustration and fear."

"I'll never understand why you're so eager on gambling with your life when you're so hellbent on losing all the time," I shot back, draining my bottle.

One laughed. "So who do you think will break their catatonic state first?"

"The girl."

He shot me a knowing glance that I also ignored, but I still felt compelled to give him the full answer.

"It's been three hours and forty-seven minutes since we launched the mission. That means it's been well over four hours since she's taken her last piss. Dehydration might have helped some, but anxiety and pressure never fail to drive women to flock, in herds, to the toilets. So as soon as she deems it safe she'll get up to relieve herself. Unlike us who are restricted to bad visuals she'll pick up on the rising tension when one of the others is about to surge to their feet and will beat them to the punch."

"You really thought that one through, eh?"

I left that quip uncommented, but One only grinned.

"Okay, you might have a point. But why her and not the old, prim gal next to her? Doesn't that whole bladder issue get worse with age?"

"Shame."

"What?"

"Her sense of shame and propriety will keep her back," I explain.

"So you say the old hag has more shame and will consequently hold out longer? Maybe she's been part of a nudist commune back in the wild seventies?"

If he ever were that irrational during a mission I would never have kept him on the team, but by now I was well aware of the fact that both his gambling habit and wild guessing were part of his coping mechanism. Sometimes that irritated me to no end, but today it turned out to be rather amusing.

"Sure, the hippie turned corporate sheep might have lowered inhibitions, but as far as I know even nudists take a shit in private. The girl on the other hand has grown up in a world over-saturated by pop culture insanity like Paris Hilton flashing her cooch so her not-quite namesake has something to blog about, and a never-ending array of high quality cinematic gems of the likes of 'American Pie' have certainly dulled her sense of propriety when it concerns bodily functions."

"Dude, you read perezhilton dot com?"

"The fact that both of you even know that skank exists totally knocks you down at least three pegs on the cool kids ladder," Two suddenly chimed up, entering the room silently except for her words.

I flashed her a grin that she answered in kind, while One set down his popcorn to draw her close to him, hugging her in a way that his face was pressed against her cleavage. She ignored him at first, then pushed him away, laughing lightly.

"Stop it! You know I'm up for the food run, and grumpy hostages are soon dead hostages, and dead hostages always make so much more work, making me have to drive miles and miles to find a good dumping ground for the bodies."

He relented, grudgingly. Two ignored him when she turned back to the screen.

"So who's winning?"

"Definitely me. See how that guy's leg just twitched? Two minutes tops and I'm rich!"

She sighed. "Sweetie, I hate to break it to you, but you're so gonna lose."

"Gah, I hate it when you go all psychic on me!"

Her eyes traveled over to me and a smug smile replaced her previous grin.

"Let me guess, the girl?"

"The girl," I confirmed.

"Good choice."

"How can you say that? Just because for whatever inexplicable reason he has the hots for her doesn't mean he's right."

Two's eyebrows shot up at hearing his lucky guess, but a moment later surprise got replaced by a shrewd look.

"Of course he's right, doofus, this one's really easy. Woman in her late twenties, early thirties who hasn't had a chance to go to the toilet for more than four hours, of course she will be the first one to bolt for the bucket."

One sighed as he accepted defeat, but then tried one last time.

"What about the older lady?"

"Her? No way, she'd rather soil her drawers than be the first to give in. Contrary to what you seem to believe, it takes guts for a woman to drop her panties in front of a whole room of guys. She clearly doesn't have any. But that one," she indicated the younger woman, "she's got plenty of fire."

Just as Two concluded her statement the girl in question got up, her head lowered in shame but her back straight as she kept staring at the floor. Two let out a whoop of triumph, raising her hand to high-five me, and after a pointed second I indulged her, then split my winnings with her when One paid up grudgingly.

"Thanks so much, darling," she drawled in the worst imitation of a Texan accent ever, then kissed One before she left the room, still twirling the dollar bills around her fingers. One shook his head, grumbling under his breath, before he looked back at the screen where the girl was busy repositioning the bucket, instinctively choosing the corner least observed by the cams.

Both following the code of honor that let us execute random people but at the same time make room for a young mother with a stroller One and I turned away from the screen, although the irony of it didn't escape me. It took a static crack over the speakers, followed by the sound of a male voice for me to look back again, just in time to see the woman glare over her shoulder at the idiot sitting by the door.

We observed their exchange in silence, although it amused me that of all people the old guy One had probably selected for variety was the only one to jump to her defense. It didn't surprise me that the six others either didn't give a damn or were still too out of their minds to be of any use, but the fact that the incident occurred within an hour of us letting them alone was fascinating.

"That's the guy you nearly shot in the desert, right?" One observed.

I nodded silently.

"Gonna remedy that fault now?"

Giving his suggestion not a moment's thought I shook my head.

"Why should I?"

"Because he's messing with your girl?" One suggested jokingly, but then sobered up when he caught my glare. "He's going to be trouble."

"They both will be. But if we off them now, who's going to entertain us the next few days?"

One laughed. "Touché."

I let my eyes drift back to the screen where she had by now resumed her former place against the wall, her cheeks dark with shame and anger even over the gritty black and white image of the camera feed. Should I have barged in for her rescue? The thought really hadn't occurred to me. As I saw it, she didn't need rescuing, and I didn't want to get stuck with the extra complication of keeping her separated. At least not unless I knew she harbored some of the same obsession with me that I felt haunting me whenever I saw her.

After a while watching our prisoners definitely lost its novelty, and I left One to the task, instead retreating to the sleeping area to try and catch a few hours of rest. I knew Two would take care of provisions for everyone, and now that the rest of the adrenaline had bled from my veins I felt my ability to focus on anything for long slip.

I woke again in the early hours of the morning, the sky still dark outside. Grabbing a cup of coffee from the pot – an addition Two claimed we couldn't do without – I settled in the now empty com room, staring at the still grainier green and gray images of the night vision mode of the cameras. All of our guests seemed to have settled in well by then, a heap of discarded fast food wrappers stating plainly that they had been fed well enough.

My gaze inevitably snagged to the smaller huddled form near the corner. With only her blouse on she must have been cold, but asleep her face looked peaceful, nearly innocent. I had never understood why so many people were fascinated with that very illusion – no one is truly innocent, nor is that a state of mind I ever found appealing. Even following the examples from archaic tales like the bible it had always been curiosity and the ability to doubt that put humanity ahead of most other species – and I for one couldn't blame Eve for biting into that apple in man's first 'fuck you' gesture. And who could really be cross with Cain for offing his do-gooder brother? Nothing beats the will for rebellion for a motive.

On screen something dragged her out of her slumber – nightmares probably – and I watched with fascination as innocence gave way to frightened yet composed reality. She took a small sip from her water bottle, then re-arranged herself, the way she craned her neck speaking of cramps from sitting in the same position for too long. Her eyes scanned the room listlessly before she gazed up to where I knew the only window in the room was, the look on her face morphing into longing bleakness. Her shoulders shook for a moment as if she was heaving a sigh, then she huddled further against the wall, trying to conserve what little warmth her body was capable of providing on its own.

Soon her lids were drooping closed again and her face went slack, resuming the unappealing mask from before. I would have preferred looking into her eyes instead, seeing temper and intelligence sparkle there. Bereft of any real entertainment I drained my cup and went back into the common room, hunting for something to read to while away the long hours of the night.

Shortly after eight Two and Five went out to fetch breakfast for the prisoners, and I joined One at his virtual peeping tom stunt again. Our guests were slowly getting restless, and we followed their conversations with a certain amount of curiosity. At least until the idiot next to the door launched his recount of what had happened to his unlucky compatriot.

"Ah, if 'lunatic' is the best he can come up for you he's really not worth the bullets in your gun," One observed wisely. "But he seems to be the only one to doubt you. Too bad. It's always so much fun when they get you all angry and you kick them until their necks snap."

"That happened one time only, and it was an example. Or do I have to remind you that you shot that soccer mom in the face because she thought you were too cute to be a cold-blooded killer?"

"That bitch so had it comin'," he drawled, then shrugged. "They still seem like a reasonable bunch this time. Shit, maybe none of them will fuck up and we'll end up with five extra hostages?"

"Unlikely."

"Maybe the fast food's too good? Why don't we try starving them? Watch how they turn into rabid animals within three days just because they don't get their sugar and caffeine fix?"

I shook my head, discounting the idea after a few seconds.

"I told them I wouldn't starve them. I don't go back on my promises."

"Yeah, yeah. You were so much more fun when we got our hands on that party from the fundraiser for the Indiana Republicans. It was kind of awesome how you punched that one guy to a bloody pulp while quoting Sartre."

Grinning for a moment, I shrugged.

"Some people just bring out the best in me."

We returned to watching the screen in silence then, until a while later the food arrived and I went downstairs to eat with the others, leaving One and Two alone to enjoy their breakfast, and knowing them, each other. Privacy was the one thing we usually had to do without, and on my less sarcastic days I could even see why they tried to hang on to a thread of normal human interaction.

A quick walk around the perimeter later I sent One, Five and Nine in to distribute the food to our guests and take care of other necessities, and once they were gone took the place as silent observer again. The girl volunteered to take care of the bucket – a move I hadn't really anticipated but somewhat dreaded. I'd seen it before, women choosing to adhere to gender roles in situations that might become lethal any moment, but had secretly hoped that she wasn't this prone to let herself be victimized. The fact that she still seemed confident and not quite the deer in the headlights in her brief exchange with One pacified me somewhat. That I cared either way was most disconcerting.

Two chose that moment to join me at the station, bringing a second cup of coffee that, knowing her, was as close to a peace offering as it would ever get. I already knew I didn't want to hear what she had to say, and the utter lack of expression on her features confirmed that before she had even opened her mouth.

"I'm not going to like this, right?"

She nodded, handing me the cup.

"I could say now that I have good news and bad news, but it's more like inconvenient news and stating the facts."

"Shoot."

There was no sense in drawing this out any longer, after all. Two smiled for a moment at my not exactly subtle pun.

"They found the body. Of the tenth hostage," she clarified.

"Is that a fact or the news?"

"Fact," came her curt reply.

"Any reason to be concerned?"

"None. Five and I picked him up last night after One told me where the two of you dumped him. Drove around a while, then left it close to a highway exit where it was bound to be found."

"Why?"

She shrugged.

"Call it a hunch. And turns out I was right, there was something fishy about it."

"The body?"

"Nope. Who he came here with." She turned to the screen where the girl just returned from the bathroom, clearly relieved to be rid of the stinking bucket for now. I must have followed her motions a little too obviously as when I looked over at Two, she was pursing her lips as she regarded me. She let it slide and instead indicated the guy by the door. "Him."

As if on cue he took this very moment to grace us with another of his verbal gems.

"Makes me wonder what took you so long to empty a single bucket. Tried to up your chances of survival with a quick blowjob or two, eh?"

On screen the girl's whole body tensed up, then she straightened and turned to face him. Even sneering back at him she looked regal, and definitely hot.

"I cleaned the fucking bucket, you dimwit!"

Maybe not the best derogative term, but I was sure she wasn't used to swearing a lot.

"And just so you know, that guy didn't even look at me the wrong way, all of them are a whole lot more polite than you!"

"I bet he didn't," Two chimed in, amused. "Contrary to someone else I won't mention here."

Unable not to glare at her I tuned out the rest of the very brief conversation that went on inside the cell, and instead took a sip from my coffee.

"So, what about that idiot?"

Content with having ruffled my feathers for once Two gestured with her cup.

"See, I had this feeling I sometimes get. I know you don't believe in superstitions, -"

"I believe in good instinct," I interrupted her, making her grin.

"Yes, you do. It wasn't really instinct, but that's beside the point. I had a hunch, so I asked Five to help me move the body, and then I waited. Three hours later all the local networks suddenly lit up with the breaking news. Turns out the unlucky bastard you shot was a bodyguard."

"Let me guess, his?" I nodded at the screen.

"Bingo."

Drumming with my fingers on the desk for a moment I stared at him, weighing in my head whether I wanted to know more, or if it wasn't for the best if I just got up and killed him right away. Taking my silence for what it was, Two followed the unspoken inquiry about the details.

"He's you."

Whipping my head around I looked at her, seeing her grin in return.

"Or you if you hadn't taken the right turn along the road. His father is a congressman, corruption charges filed but never went through, old money, lots of influence. Sonny dearest went to Harvard, got his MBA, sent a business or three down the drain before he joined his father's campaign party. He has over a hundred and twenty thousand facebook friends, and changes the Barbies on his arm more often than his underwear. Forbes called him one of the up and coming political masterminds of his generation."

I mulled over her words for a while, then shrugged.

"Guess that means he's worth a hefty sum?"

"I wouldn't exactly say worth, but yeah, we could ask for a lot. Enough to finance us for half a year, or do some major upgrades. You know that the people we deal with want to see hard cash, and aren't known for taking something on loan or credit."

I nodded, agreeing with her.

"I take it you think I shouldn't off him then although for once I'd do the world a favor?"

She sighed, then rubbed her eyes. For a moment her usual energetic mask slipped, revealing the tired and stressed woman I knew her to be underneath. When she drew herself back together her eyes flitted over my face for a moment, then she sighed again loudly and nodded.

"You know that I don't take betraying my ideals lightly, but we need food, weapons, vehicles, ammo, and enough left to finance our next hideout until we can move out once more. Unless you want to go all low tech or stop altogether, we really need the dough."

Glancing back at the screen I inclined my head.

"Tell the others not to kill him, whatever he does."

"You sure about that? Because he looks like he really could be trouble. You know he probably set his bodyguard up to be killed to send someone a message, or to test your limits?"

"Obviously."

"Okay," she replied slowly, then joined me in staring at what was going on inside the cell.

"I don't think he'll keep it to verbal harassment, you know?" Two broke the silence after a few minutes.

"Probably not."

Turning to me, she let me see the frown on her forehead.

"And you don't intend to do anything about that?"

"Not unless he forces my hand."

"So what, you're going to sit here and watch him rape that girl, and after he's done with her you go in and scold him? I know you utterly lack compassion, but there's a difference between a cold hearted bastard and someone who doesn't give a shit at all."

"Just why are you both so obsessed with me and her?" I tried to evade her question, but she would have none of it.

"Don't give me that crap. Remember, I've known you for a long time. I know you want her. And there's nothing wrong with that. Just because you're on your crusade doesn't mean you have to do it alone."

I cocked my eyebrow, reminded of her previous attempt to start the same conversation, but when she didn't relent I gave in.

"There is something wrong with it if she doesn't share my feelings." Hearing my own words out loud made me laugh, and it wasn't a happy sound. "Feelings. Lust, obsession, need, I don't think that exactly qualifies as what people describe as mushy feelings. Or love."

That made her chuckle, a wry but rich sound.

"Lust, obsession, need, sounds like feelings to me. And I'll be the first to shoot you if you start quoting poetry and go out to buy her flowers, don't worry."

"That's reassuring."

"I know! I'm a saint," she laughed, then gestured wildly with her empty cup. "And I'll gladly be the savior of your highly unchallenged libido and will tell you this. She wants you. Don't be an ass and let this opportunity slip because you're not sure. Although, I have to admit it's kind of funny to see you of all people act like a smitten fool."

"Smitten, eh?"

She grinned. "And there I'd have expected you to gripe at the fool. Yes, smitten. It's so obvious that you're fascinated with her."

"And what makes you think she feels the same about me? That she indeed does want me?"

"It's obvious in the way she looks at you. She's just as easy to read as you are."

"Not that I've noticed."

"Oh come on, stop lying to yourself," Two went on. "But if you really did miss it, you can watch the tapes of your little speech after their arrival here. The way she was fidgeting, frowning, then mentally beating herself up over something, it's so easy to see that for what it really is."

"Her getting abducted by a bunch of murdering psychopaths?"

"Ah, no," she clarified. "If she were distressed about that, she would be calmer and not as torn as she obviously is. Fear is easy, straight. But something is eating her up inside, keeping her from finding rest. Like when everything she ever learned is screaming at her that she's insane to have the hots for you. Why she's upset when you ignore her. Really, it's quite obvious. But I'm not sure if she's strong enough to overcome all the years of indoctrination in just five days on her own. You might have to help her along a little."

"Meaning?"

Two shrugged.

"Talk to her. Show her she's more to you than just one of many. If she doesn't react you can always call me out on my shit. And if she does, well, we always have room for one more happy revolutionary!"

She got up then, and accepting my cup left the room without another word. It didn't escape me that she had left the whole issue of how to deal with the idiot progeny mostly untouched after agreeing with me that it was in our interest to keep him alive. I wondered if that was her way of telling me to act, or if she didn't want to draw herself into the mess bound to happen. And staring at the screen while he kept trying to anger the brown-haired girl more and more, I knew that before we bundled up whoever survived for their release, the shit was going to hit the fan.

The revelation about the heritage of one of our guests sent the rest of our merry band scrambling once I made it public over lunch. New plans had to be made, locations found, extra material purchased, and more than once the urge to simply blow that nuisance's brains up was strong, but I forced myself to appear composed and in charge. Organizing and keeping everyone in check took up most of my time, even though our brief yet hostile exchange with the private attorney of the idiot's father to deliver our terms for the ransom brightened my hectic day a little. I still had to actively plan helping with feeding the hostages on the evening of the next day to see the object of my newfound obsession face to face.

Our exchange was brief, just a long, intense look shared, but it was enough to make my dick hard. The power she already had over my body was as unfamiliar as it was disconcerting. Two's words echoed through my mind as I spent half of the following night in our makeshift workshop assembling bombs and refining the rigged harnesses I had come up with last week. One kept me company, accepting the home-made detonators I handed him to attach to the C-4.

It seemed as if I had barely shut my eyes when Two woke me the next morning, leaving me disoriented for a moment as I sheathed my knife again, grumbling under my breath that she really should have known better than to forcefully shake me awake.

"Come on, your presence is required in the cell."

There was no urgency in her voice so I took the time to quickly wash myself, then dressed and went upstairs into the com room. Five was already waiting for me, looking bored. That made me wonder what kind of emergency had prompted them to drag me from the mattress hours before my shift was due, but a nod at the monitors about answered that question. While the rest of the hostages were sitting, as usual, against the wall, the brown-haired girl lay curled around herself on the floor, shivers running through her body hard enough that I could see them without problems.

"She's gotten ill?"

"Yup, I checked the recorded feeds from last night, she's been vomiting for hours."

I acknowledged the news in silence, then scratched my jaw as I tried to make up my mind how to proceed. People got sick sometimes, it had happened before, and until now we had had a very simple cure for that – dispose of them before they could infect everyone else, although with the short stay with us and the longer incubation period of most viruses that never actually got us any additional work. Only that this time I was more than just reluctant to follow procedure.

"Want me to make a run for the next pharmacy?" Five's taunt dragged my attention from my thoughts back to him.

"Fuck you."

"You're welcome!"

Turning back to the image on the screen something occurred to me.

"Did you get them to clean up after themselves yet today?"

"Nope. Why?"

"There's only one water bottle lying next to her, and two discarded ones next to the bucket. Everyone else has at least three, and I don't think those are hers. Did you see her drink during the night?"

Five frowned, then shrugged.

"Man, I really didn't pay attention to that."

Cursing under my breath I turned around and hurried into the lower floor, picking up two bottles of orange juice from the fridge. Barking orders at anyone milling around to get the food and water I jugged down the contents of one of the bottles, then followed Nine and One to the cell.

As usual the whole line of hostages shrank away from us as we walked inside, but I ignored them. The brown haired girl hadn't moved since I had seen her over the cameras, but from up close she looked even worse, her skin pasty and cold sweat plastering strands of hair to her forehead.

Grabbing one of the fresh water bottles, I unscrewed the top and upended it over her head, not caring whether the water would sting in her eyes or make her choke for a moment. If my guess was wrong and it wasn't just stupidity on her side, spluttering because she inhaled water would be the least of her problems.

Almost immediately she started to move but with the sluggishness that spoke of more than just lack of sleep. When her eyes remained closed I slapped her once, not hard enough to really hurt but it wasn't a gentle pat on the cheek, either. She jerked away from me and her lids fluttered, then fell open. I could see the moment she recognized me because her eyes went wide as our gazes locked, but the next second she was rolling over and puking, oddly viscose bile splattering onto the floor inches away from my boots. The fact that what had remained in her stomach seemed a step away from dessicated further confirmed my suspicion, but when I saw the old hag next to her shrink further away from the girl instead of trying to help her wipe the spit off her chin, I felt ready to go for my knife.

"She's completely dehydrated, when was the last time she drank something and actually held it down?"

The elder woman paled as her fingers were digging into the tissue she was clutching to her chest like a disposable talisman.

"I don't know, yesterday evening probably?"

The fact that she didn't know would have made me shake my head, but I had seen reactions like hers often enough not to be surprised just how fast helpfulness and the will to take care of each other deteriorated under duress.

"Probably?" I hedged, then forced the heat to drain from my voice. They always got more afraid when I was calm. "Haven't you spent the last sixty hours next to her?"

All I got for an answer was incoherent stammering and tears as I kept staring at her, as if that would do anything to pacify me. A groan coming from my left got me focusing on the girl instead, who was just sitting back against the wall. She still looked a little green around the gills, but met my gaze with the usual amount of sass shining in her eyes, tired as they might have been. Remembering what I was here about I thrust the bottle of OJ at her.

"Here, drink that, I'll bring you another in three hours and one for dinner, too."

Turning back to the people sitting next to her, I went on explaining what I'd do to them if she didn't start consuming water in adequate volumes right away. Of course none of them spoke up, but I didn't doubt for a moment that compassion wasn't their motive to 'help' her now.

A little uncomfortable with how she kept looking at me I got back to my feet, then selected our wannabe protégé for the task of cleaning the bucket. It didn't escape me that he sneered at her as he got up to get to work, but didn't feel like that deserved my attention. It was plain enough that the atmosphere in there resembled a powder keg by now, and as much as I felt like poking them until they exploded, I didn't think that would require my help.

Before One and Nine were done helping with the cleanup I brought the girl another bottle of juice, and noted with a wry grin how adamant both the elder woman and the other guy were in making sure she drank it. She let them tut to her without even making a face, but it was clear she shared my opinion about their motives, and didn't really feel comfortable about the attention.

I didn't return to the common room after we were done but instead went downstairs to the vehicles and helped unload the last batch of provisions and ammo that Six and Eighteen had just arrived with. I didn't doubt that more bickering would be going on inside the cell, and once I had time to catch up with One after dinner he pretty much confirmed my guess.

Sending two of the others to our guests with their dinner I hung back when I heard the microphones pick up the idiot's voice. One switched the cycling camera feed to display those two from inside the cell without me having to tell him, and we watched the next round of friendly conversation unfold.

"Why so itchy? Can't wait for your psycho sweetheart to come with your OJ? Maybe if you ask him nicely he'll finally fuck you so you can stop drawing his attention to yourself."

I had to give her credit, she tried valiantly to ignore the constant verbal abuse, but a short while later she got up, her face blank as she took the first step towards the bucket.

"Christ, I miss the internet, they could at least have left me my phone so I could watch some porn. Although watching you like that helps a little, I have a thing for cute girls pissing themselves on camera."

One let out a humorless bark next to me, but at my side-long glance he shrugged.

"If that's what he's missing the most, he should be having the time of his life."

"Probably," I murmured, my attention back on the girl. Her shoulders were tensed and her spine rigid as she took care of her business, and while she showed no other reaction to the continuing insults being hurled at her, I could see that he was slowly getting under her skin. She looked ready to explode when she finally turned on him, but the idiot seemed mostly amused by her wrath.

"What is it, princess? Ready to finally worship my cock?"

"So you like scat and watersports so much? I think I have something for you then."

The words had barely left her lips when she kicked the bucket hard, spraying a fountain of fecal matter and urine across the room towards her antagonist. Her timing was impeccable, the bucket hitting the door just as it opened, stopping the trajectory short as the contents splashed onto the floor.

A second later Nine's enraged voice sounded over the speakers.

"WHAT THE FUCK?"

"Uh, not good," One observed dryly as he kicked back in his chair, making himself ready to enjoy the entertainment. If it had been anyone except her I would have done the same, but I was well aware how trigger happy Nine was, as well as how unperceptive of my interest in her.

"This I have to see for myself."

One's laughter chased me out of the room, making it obvious that he knew why I was needing a front row seat instead of enjoying the video feed.

Taking the steps down two at a time I arrived in the cell just as Nine started his very unsubtle interrogation, barking at the quivering Asian dude. The only thing surprising there was that he didn't wet himself right away, and when he finally found his voice, it was all but an unintelligible stammer.

"It was me."

Nine's head whipped around when the geezer stepped up to him. Though clearly frightened he was calm and composed, the polar opposite of my minion facing him. Nine shifted his aim effortlessly.

"Care to tell me why you'd do something so insanely stupid?"

"To show you exactly how enticing it is to be locked up in this shithole," the geezer replied in a strong, measured tone.

Nine snorted, then looked back at me as if asking for permission. I gave him the obvious answer.

"Kill him."

Following my command immediately, Nine pulled the trigger, making the body in front of him dance and jerk as the bullets bit into flesh and bone. The girl started screaming, her eyes still fixed on her would-be savior, and for a moment I contemplated letting Nine go on with the usual procedure. She was useless to me if she couldn't take violence, but at least she shut up once she started vomiting right next to the still twitching body.

At a yank of my chin the others filed into the room, and I rounded on the hostages.

"Anyone else want to complain about the conditions? I'm all ears."

The girl kept her head down, some of the blood oozing towards her right next to my boots. At my shotgun prodding her shoulder she inched back, her eyes huge as she stared up at me. I kept my attention on the waste slowly spreading all over the cell floor, only regarding her from the corner of my eye.

"Three days and you're already behaving like no animal ever will unless it's absolutely forced to. I can't say I'm surprised, but certainly disappointed."

Handing Five my shotgun, I accepted cleaning utensils from him that I dumped in front of the by now shivering girl. As our eyes locked I let her see how much the irony of the situation amused me.

"You, clean that mess up. You'll only vomit from the stench anyway, might as well make yourself useful."

She reacted immediately, grabbing for the sponge cloth and setting to her gruesome task without hesitation. Whether it was fear of me or plain survival instinct I couldn't tell, but it was ironic how little any of the others seemed to care. I kept grinning at her while she worked, only stopping for a moment to make room for Nine and Five dragging the body out of the cell. Every so often her eyes kept flitting back to me, blind panic slowly giving way to something else in them that looked like an entirely different kind of horror. If I had to take a guess I would have said that my demeanor scared her, but as she still kept a relative show of calm I didn't act on it.

Once she was done finishing the job with a thorough second round of cleaning the floor with bleach I held her dinner out to her. True revulsion stood plain on her face as she stared at the burger, and my lopsided smile got more real.

"Here. Eat."

"I'm really not hungry."

I let some steel drip back into my gaze, and she immediately hunched her shoulders.

"I said eat. I'm not going anywhere until you've finished that burger, and I better not find any vomit tomorrow morning."

Placing her bottle of OJ on the floor within easy reach I leaned closer, tempering my voice so that my words were for her ears only.

"Get a grip on yourself, and fast. I'd really hate to paint the walls with your brain matter, you're more fun to me alive than dead. Although in your case, I might even make an exception."

It was obvious that she believed that I would just rape her corpse if I couldn't get my hands on her alive, but she still forced herself to bite, chew and swallow until the whole burger was gone. There was even a hint of challenge in her eyes when she finished the juice, handing me the bottle but making sure that our fingers didn't touch. It was tempting to reach out for her and grab her, but I left it at a last, somewhat condescending smile before I left her for a doubtlessly disturbed night rest. The fact that she had turned herself into a social pariah that the others avoided at all costs, also physically, only added to my glee.

A night filled with preparations kept me busy until the next morning, and I could only shake my head at how elated I felt when it was time to feed our guests again. My mood further increased when I found the brown haired girl calm and with her eyes bright with challenge. She didn't need to be prompted into action but got the bucket by herself, her shoulders only slightly hunched as I followed her inside the derelict bathroom.

She kept her motions precise and efficient, no cringing or hesitating as she took care of the mess she and her fellows had left during the night. One had told me about their arrangement before, and it took her the whole process of cleaning until she turned to me, her eyes not quite fixed on mine.

"Would you mind giving a lady some privacy?"

I snorted at her question, then gave her a slow once-over.

"I don't see a lady anywhere in this room."

Half expecting her to cringe or show some other kind of unnecessary self-conscious behavior, her gaze met mine.

"Why, did some errant blood spatter blind you?"

Allowing myself a dark chuckle I remained where I was,

"Ah, not quite. Let me rephrase that, I don't think a woman kicking buckets full of shit and piss around can still expect anyone to think of her as a lady."

My words must have grated, but she remained as composed as before when she replied, her voice taking on a goading lilt.

"I see. Well, I guess then it's good I don't regard gun toting killers as gentlemen, either?"

I inclined my head, amusement keeping that insane grin on my face.

"Touché, madame."

When I still didn't make a move to leave her I saw a muscle in her cheek jump, but she only crossed her arms over her chest instead of backing down. Briefly I wondered if she realized just how much of a turn-on her casual defiance was, but then let the thought go.

"Then would you mind lending a raving mad, shit bucket toppling woman some privacy?"

"As you asked so nicely, of course."

Letting my eyes burn into hers for another moment I pushed away from the door frame, then went outside, straining my ears for the telltale sobs I expected to hear. Instead I was rewarded with the rustle of clothes followed by the splash of water, and when she joined me a minute later her eyes were clear, showing that she hadn't cried a single tear. If nothing else, that show of strength got me considering if I shouldn't offer her a place among our ranks, but my brain couldn't let my cock make my decisions for me. Too much was at risk, and I wasn't ready to die for a pair of pretty eyes just yet.

She seemed relieved and downright meek as she trudged back into the cell, but her eyes followed my every motion as I handed her the bottle of OJ with the direction to drink it right away as I wouldn't let her thirst herself into another delirium. She accepted the bottle without uttering a single word, her throat moving rapidly as she drained the whole container fast. Pursing her lips after she licked them she held the empty bottle out to me.

"Thank you. I appreciate your concern, truly it would be bad for your rep as merciless killer if your frail hostages just did away with themselves under your tender care."

I smirked.

"That's such a relief to hear, I hope you enjoyed your dinner last night?"

"Nothing beats being force-fed at gun point," she retorted. "I'm so glad you hand-picked me as your captive, or else I would never have felt that kind of attention at the hands of anyone in my miserable, boring life."

Her words made me snort, echo of my own as they were.

"Good for you," I replied, then left her sitting there, wondering what to do with her. I was the last to leave the room, and as I engaged the bolts I thought I heard her laughter drifting back to me. Checking in at the com room I realized I hadn't just imagined that, finding her in the throes of hysteria in her corner of the room, nearly choking on sobs and laughter alike. Part of me wanted to go back in there to slap some sense back into her, but I figured that either way she would have to learn to deal with the stress herself.

"Just what the fuck is wrong with you?"

Her head snapped up and she glared at the guy who had barked at her, clearly unfazed at his words as she wiped tears and snot from her face.

"Oh, I don't know, seems like I'm, how do you say, deranged? Unhinged? Maybe I figured that if none of us is trying to behave like actual people I might as well leave my sanity behind and spend the last hours of my life trying to make the best of it?"

A grin crept back onto my face at her words, only growing wider when the idiot joined their conversation.

"Yeah, sounds like a really great plan."

Her serene smile made her seem even farther gone, but the steel from before was back in her spine when she straightened.

"It is. You should read the script for the grand finale, the plot twist is absolutely murderous."

Realizing that he wouldn't be the one to make her dissolve into tears again he didn't reply, and after a while she sat back on her haunches, her hands clasped and her arms resting lightly on her knees as she stared up at the ceiling. She seemed more relaxed than I had seen her in the whole four days, and I was impressed that she had gotten through her meltdown in less than five minutes.

Throughout the day my thoughts kept snagging back to her, something I was not used to. When I was idle my thoughts always ran rampant, but once focused on a task I never had problems concentrating. Not so today. The siren song of her throaty alto kept reverberating inside my head, and every so often I would find myself lost in fantasies of what I could be doing instead of taking stock, assembling our gear or briefing our sleeper agents. I felt as if I was about to turn into a stupid, listless boy again, and at one point I was contemplating just dragging her out of that hole so I could fuck her out of my system to clear my head again. Why I didn't, I would never know.

Afternoon turned into early evening by the time most of the preparations were finished, and I allowed myself to drop by the com room again to take a look at the object of my mental vexation. For more than half an hour nothing happened, but then I noticed that the girl was looking exceedingly nervous. She kept tapping her foot and absentmindedly chewed on a strand of her hair, both habits I had seen her fall into before. It wasn't hard to guess who the focus of her attention was, and before long I caught the idiot leaning into the room, his eyes boring into hers.

"Last twenty-four hours, huh? Already got your lines ready how you'll throw yourself at our oh so merciful captor so you can blow yourself into his good graces?"

She pointedly looked away from him but her body tensed further. Until he threw a sandwich wrapper at her, when she relaxed, a clear sign of gathering herself – before she went into offense.

"You know what? I should probably do that. Maybe even in front of you so you can jerk off one last time before I ask him oh so nicely to spray your brain matter all over this stinking prison cell. It's marvelous what a guy will do if you suck him off well enough. For you, probably don't even have to put out much more than that."

"Oh honey, he'd do him for free," Two's voice drawled from my right side, and when I cocked a brow at her, my dear friend grinned. "It's not like you wouldn't do the world a favor. And yourself."

We watched in silence as the idiot retorted by bragging how important he was, which only led to more equally friendly banter between them. I tried to tune out their words and instead concentrated on their body language, until I realized just how wound up the guy was.

"That's it, I'm going in. Tell the others to meet me at the cell."

Two blinked in surprise but didn't protest.

"Sure. Shall I get their dinner?"

"A body bag more likely."

She frowned but then gave me a curt nod before she went into the room below. I followed her but ignored the others, grabbing the portable monitor from the docking station. I was halfway through the corridors when the feed finally switched to the cell, but I didn't like what the cameras showed me. Apparently the idiot had reached the end of his very short fuse, as he wasn't sitting by the door anymore. Instead he was busy bashing the girl's head against the wall before he dragged her into the middle of the room, his intentions as clear as they were despicable.

Reaching the door ahead of the others I forced myself to still and wait for them. Distracted as everyone inside the cell might have been just then I wouldn't risk them turning on me, and even with my knife and gun I wouldn't stand a chance against all of them. Not that I expected this to be a roust, but I hadn't come this far disregarding my instincts. And it wasn't like I was running out of time here, as our little protégé had a lot of problems subduing his intended victim.

When she successfully punched and kneed him I heard his roar loud through the door, and the way she kept fighting back even when his blows must have nearly stunned her was oddly fascinating. Not that I didn't want to rip his fucking heart out and feed it to him, but she would survive getting banged up a bit, and I wasn't exactly rocking that knight in shining armor stunt myself.

My backup finally arrived, and not a minute too late as the camera feed showed me. While she was fighting valiantly, the girl was clearly losing the battle, although the enraged "You fucking cunt!" that followed rang clear through the door.

"What the fuck?" Nine asked, scrutinizing the still closed door while he drew his Glock. Apparently that was the only exclamation his brain was able to come up with, considering how often he employed it. I was about to scold him for that when I realized what had caused the initial reaction, and I started to laugh. Clever girl. Not that it seemed to do her any good, but that move showed more cunning – and clear thinking – than I could have expected of someone like her in a situation like she found herself in right now. Maybe there was still hope after all.

I might not have any delusions about my suitability as her savior but that didn't mean I was comfortable with the idea of stalling long enough for her to get violated, so I signaled the others as I dropped the monitor on the cupboard by the door.

"Ready boys, we're going in."

Having followed their 'exchange' over the camera feed was one thing, but seeing him pin her half naked, filthy form to the floor while he readied himself to take the last of her pride away was a different thing. I didn't take a moment to analyze just how disgusted I was by his actions. Instead I strode into the room with purpose, then grabbed the idiot and heaved him off her. I caught him unawares enough that his attempt to punch me failed, and from then on it was easy. I just had to let go of him for One and Nine to restrain him instead.

Ignoring our would-be rapist for a second I turned back to the girl, unsure of what I would find. She had shown enough fire and steel to be able to handle a situation like this, but everyone had a breaking point, and most women I knew would find theirs in a situation similar to this one. Yet when our gazes met I realized that she was a lot stronger than I had given her credit for. Scared she was but also composed – maybe from shock, but she didn't seem panicked – and her lack of trying to cover herself told me that she had her priorities straight still. Part of her face would be swollen and bruised soon but otherwise she seemed mostly unharmed, so I decided that I had ample time to dish out as much of a retribution as I dared without ruining our chance at obtaining the ransom.

Turning back to the now futilely struggling idiot I fixed him with a glare before I advanced, kicking his ankles apart before I crouched down over him, pinning his spread thighs to the floor with my knees. One and Five kept his shoulders and arms immobilized, both now wearing equally impassive looks on their faces. I didn't really care that my legs were this close to his naked, fecal matter covered, rapidly softening dick – in my eyes he had lost everything that made him a man already, and I found the idea to underline that sentiment oddly satisfying in itself.

"You know, one thing about situations like this is how they bring people together," I mused, turning my voice deceptively gentle. My smile might have been lost on my opponent, though. "There I spend my time collecting intelligent quotes about nihilism and anarchy, but the only thing that comes to my mind now are three simple words. What. The. Fuck."

Nine snickered at me quoting him, but I forced myself not to react to the ire rising in me anew. Instead I cleared my throat, now losing the chipper tone.

"I've often wondered just what makes a guy want to rape a woman. Or a man. Or goat, for all I care. I just don't get it, and trust me, I understand a hell of a lot about motivations for violent behavior out there. As for sex, I get why you'd want to seduce a married woman. Or turn a shy virgin into a wanton slut. The rush of being the driving force behind an event of that magnitude is clear to me. There are only a few things more powerful than having a willing woman writhe underneath you, to make her forget who she is in the throes of passion - that I understand. But what's the merit of sticking your prick into a girl who just fucking shit herself to keep you from violating her? That's unless you're into scat, I mean, but that aside, please, do enlighten me."

Playing tough he kept glaring up at me, his lips pressed together like a petulant child at the dentist's. As the seconds ticked by defiance gave way to a delightful mix of fright and hate, until I had enough. Sighing theatrically, I went on.

"Thought so. Tell me, do you like Tarantino movies?"

"Sure. Who doesn't?" Of course he did, but I doubted he understood a single one of them.

"What's your favorite?"

Returning to his silent treatment the idiot probably figured he could vex me with what he thought was defiance, but I couldn't have cared less.

"Let me guess, it's 'Kill Bill'. Because all you sleazy guys who have never in their entire life held a weapon that needs you to get up close and personal with someone love that movie. Don't get me wrong, it's great, and that knife fight at the beginning, phew, gets me harder than most porn flicks on the net every time I see it, while you have to google for 'Brazilian fart porn' or 'Asian girls puking into each other's mouth' to get hard. Because, you should know, I have a thing for knives."

Reaching down I pulled my knife out of my calf sheath, then glanced at it briefly, letting the rays of the setting sun catch on the only non-matte part of the weapon, the sharpest part of its edge.

"My baby, a SOG SEAL team knife," I introduced him to the harbinger of his doom. "A trusty companion for the longest part of my journey." Looking back at my now less struggling captive, I turned my tone more conversational.

"See, my favorite Tarantino movie is 'Inglourious Basterds'. Christoph Waltz as Col. Hans Landa is a revelation, and the film itself is next to perfect. But now that you know of my proclivity for edged weapons, you might hazard a guess why I'm telling you this. I'll help you a little, let's pretend I have a real fondness for the character of Lt. Aldo Raine, the dashing leader of the Basterds."

My pause wasn't appreciated, so I went on.

"You were right before when you told her you're someone important, you know? Too bad, really, but negotiations with your father have been going very well, I'm afraid to say. So well indeed that I can't bring myself to do what I really want, but have to let you live. Not being independently wealthy sucks sometimes."

A quick sigh, but my audience was still stuck on mute.

"Our little killing spree across the country turned out to eat the budget of a small banana republic, so you're too valuable for me to have some real fun with you. I'm just burning to sink my knife into your body and eviscerate you so I can strangle you with your intestines.

"I think that's a terrible death, evisceration. It could take hours, really, maybe even days to bleed out, and I imagine the agony to be staggering. It's what I think you deserve, and I've been looking forward to it since you first started harassing her. Too bad I won't get the chance now."

Of course the idiot took that for a sign that – like everyone else – I would just let him get away with my little speech.

"Really too bad, I could cry. Now get off me, you jerk!"

"Not so fast, I only said I couldn't kill you, I didn't say I was done with you."

I let my eyes drift to my knife, then back to the canvas I planned to use it on shortly.

"I never thought I'd get into a situation where I could apply anything from that movie," I resumed talking, then went on recounting one of the central themes of the film that had struck a chord with me – and if he had half a brain, the idiot before me should have caught on just why I retold nearly the whole plot.

Returning to the reason why I regaled him and everyone else with it, I let my enthusiasm show in my tone.

"To make sure that everyone knew they had been Nazis, he carved a swastika into their foreheads. Obviously, that won't do for you, because whatever your faults are, I don't think you're a Nazi. Although I figure you'll soon wish you were, because it only takes six cuts to finish a swastika, while 'rapist' has six whole letters."

I would have loved to gloat at him now but gleeful indifference had a bigger impact, so I instead turned to Five, who had lingered outside of the room until now.

"Would you be so kind as to hold his head, I really don't want to mess this up. Maybe it's going to be my masterpiece, too."

By then every ounce of composure had fled my helpless opponent, but he tried to fight anyway. I gave him enough time to tire himself out, and to let him stew in the realization that this time he wouldn't just get away with it. Then I flicked the knife over, business end down – and went to work.

He started shrieking even before the cool metal touched his skin, but as the sharp edge cut effortlessly through layers of skin and muscle I didn't even try to quench my own reaction. I would have loved to draw this out and linger at the sight of the small beads of blood filling the cuts, but my mind wouldn't let me. This was a task, not enjoyment, and as much as I liked hearing his curses turn to pleas, it was less satisfying than it should have been.

That was unacceptable.

When the last cut was finished I scrutinized my work, and found it sufficient.

"Maybe not a masterpiece, but good enough. I know, first thing when you're out of here you'll go to your daddy and ask him to pay for the plastic surgeon like the spoiled princess you are, but I'm sure the picture won't disappear from the tabloids."

Grabbing his head by the hair I forced it upwards, then to the side so that the girl could see my handiwork also. She still hadn't moved but her face had regained some of its usual color, and her eyes weren't quite that wide anymore.

"Like it?"

Her eyes stayed on my face for a moment too long but then she glanced at her assailant and nodded.

"Ah, I like it, too," I went on conversationally. "Think it is enough?"

She seemed to mull that over in her head, but her voice was low and strong when she answered.

"No."

I grinned at her, feeling strangely elated that she agreed with me.

"Neither do I."

Turning back to the idiot, I let the amusement drain from my face and voice again.

"Say, do you like the movie 'Fight Club'? Not quite as good as the novel, which is a true piece of art, but still, Brad Pitt, Edward Norton, Helena Bonham Carter, they couldn't have found a better cast. I hate to live up to stereotypes, but in my devotion to Chuck Palahnuik's work I have to abide by the clichée."

When I got no reaction, I shrugged.

"Okay, be like that, I really don't care. I'm sure you've seen the film, though probably never read the book, because you're just the kind of guy who gets a kick out of it. There is that one scene where the dutiful members of Project Mayhem grab Commissioner Jacobs and threaten to cut off his balls and send them to the newspapers – I always loved that scene," I lost myself in the good memories, then looked at my compatriots. "Now who has a rubber band for me?"

I was actually surprised when Five reached into his pocket and handed me two.

"Dude, you actually carry fucking rubber bands around with you? Why?"

"Thought they might come in handy, you never know, right?" he shrugged. "You can fix everything with rubber bands."

"Duct tape, man, you can fix everything with duct tape! But whatever, hand 'em over."

I dismissively placed the knife on the idiot's stomach as I grabbed the rubber bands, the better part of me cursing myself for agreeing to keep him alive. A few cuts and skin and muscle would give way under the cool steel, and he could literally spill his guts while I made him apologize to her for what he had attempted to do. The alternative, interesting as it might be, just wasn't the same.

Pushing those thoughts away I wrapped the rubber bands around the base of his cock, and for good measure around his balls also. By now my single-minded concentration must have accomplished what my words hadn't, as the recipient of my righteous wrath finally opened his mouth to try to save himself.

"Okay, okay, I get it, you're the one in charge, you're a fucking hero and all that jazz, and you glorify stupid movies like the sixteen year old geek you were when you first read that stinking book. You think that stupid bitch will let you fuck her if you carve me up and threaten to cut off my junk, be my guest. But that skank's so not worth it, you'll just get a shit-load of diseases from her! But I see where you don't care as you'll be dead tomorrow evening anyway!"

His words didn't even make me raise my brows.

"You really think I'm doing this to impress her?" Pitching my voice up an octave, I went on. "Gee, where are we, high school?" Back to a more sinister tone. "No, my dear friend, I'm doing this because I can."

I picked up the knife then and held it before his eyes until he had trouble focusing on it, letting the true joy I felt at what was to come show on my face.

"Because I'm a fucking psychopathic control freak and this is the ride of my life, and you, stupid moron, just don't know when to shut up."

He whined and gasped when I ran the tip of the knife over the head of his cock, drawing a dark chuckle from me. He was so utterly ridiculous, like all the stupid fuckers in this world.

"Living up to the stereotype, you probably think I will now play it all like in 'Fight Club' and spare your less than impressive dick, being content that every time you will stick it into some unlucky bitch you'll think of me?"

Taking a moment to reflect on that mental image, I crossed my arms and scratched my chin with my free hand.

"You know, I like that idea. Makes me wonder if you'd get a hard-on ever. I guess it's too bad for you that I'm an even bigger Frank Miller fan."

Behind me I heard a sharp intake of breath coming from the girl, but I kept my focus on the idiot. Letting my words sink in I plastered a smile onto my face that never reached my eyes, then grabbed his worthless cock and set the knife against the deep red skin. A quick slice and cold steel severed flesh without meeting much resistance, before hot blood gushed all over my hands.

Allowing myself only a second of enjoyment I dropped the knife, then shoved the disgustingly limp dick into his mouth and clamped my blood stained hand over it to make sure that he couldn't spit it out right away. His eyes, clouded with pain, went even wider when he couldn't finish gasping for breath, but he still started screaming, the sound most satisfying to me. For several seconds we kept up the staring match, me gloating down at him while his pea sized brain took the time to catch up with everything, and when I was sure I had his full attention I mouthed the words 'I own you', just for fun.

Then reality rushed in and my senses registered what else was going on besides the blood still soaking into my right knee and the rigid body trembling with the first stages of severe physical trauma induced shock. The sound of loud sobbing grated down my spine, and for a moment I felt nearly dejected as I thought it was the girl losing it, but a quick glance confirmed that she was still calm and as composed as she seemed capable of, which was remarkably much. Then I saw an angry frown replace the somewhat vacant look on her face, and following her glare I found the source of the dismal crying.

A single nod from me was all it took for One to raise his gun and shoot the old hag in the face, spraying blood through half of the cell. The girl's eyes strayed between one gushing wound and the other, but then they fixed on me, and I decided I had taken enough time idling with the mundane task of enjoying myself.

She didn't react when I got up but flinched as I touched her. I couldn't be cross with her for that reaction, and it didn't take much physical persuasion to pull her into motion. Seeking her gaze I stared into her wide eyes, watching with satisfaction as she swallowed her fear and replaced it with determination. She obviously wanted to live, and that was all I needed to know.

Tearing the electronic shackle from around her ankle before I could thwart my own plans by accidentally amputating her leg I dragged her out of the cell behind me. I didn't care if she had trouble keeping up with my pace, which she obviously did with her pants still tangled around her ankles. Then she gasped, the sound very close to a sob, and I stopped, rounding on her. This time it was real panic I saw on her face, and my fingers dug inadvertently deeper into her upper arm.

"Not you, too. I really didn't do this for you, but it would be a waste if I had to shoot you if you lost it now. I'm not him, I'm not going to violate you, but if I don't lock you up somewhere else, you won't survive the night. Okay?"

I couldn't say if she'd really been afraid that I would finish what he had started, but my words cut through her haze and she nodded. Leaving it at that I continued the short journey to the shower room Two had staked out as hers, then pushed the girl inside. The moment I let go of her she stumbled and fell onto the tiled floor, where she remained immobile.

Sighing inwardly, I figured her brain would need a while to start working on its own again, which I couldn't exactly blame her for.

"Strip."

A violent tremor ran through her body at my command, but then she rolled over, gazing up at me in panic and desolation. That alone made me want to go back up to the cell and carve that sorry excuse for a man up – slowly, oh so slowly, bit by dripping bit – but I knew that she wouldn't take kindly to me letting my anger color my tone. Swallowing my revulsion I leaned against the door frame, trying to appear casual to make her feel safer.

"If you haven't noticed, your clothes are either torn or soiled from your vain attempt to save what's left of your dignity. Take them off and clean yourself, I'll throw them in the washer and bring you something to wear until they're dry. You can be afraid of me for many things, but not that."

She hesitated for only a second, then set to the task, her fingers shaking at first but her efforts bringing fruition fast enough. In an attempt to give her some privacy I set to cleaning my knife, first washing the blood off in the sink before I wiped the flat of the blade on my pants. Fear was back in her eyes when she handed me her clothes, but after a moment I recognized it as anxiety. Whatever was bothering her, I was disinclined to ask her about it, and instead nodded towards the scarce cleaning utensils present before I left her to take care of herself.

I rejoined the others in the common room after depositing the dirty rags in the washing machine, making sure that no other unfortunate mishaps had occurred. Now rid of the central point of tension and properly cowed, the other hostages had once more succumbed to stupor, while the crippled idiot now occupied the corner the girl had been sitting in before, still moaning and writhing in pain. No one had bothered to shoot him up with morphine, or even leave some painkillers, and I was disinclined to make a difference there.

Two was already waiting for me with a fresh bundle of clothes that I recognized as some of her cast-offs, and I accepted them with a grateful smile. The last thing I wanted to occupy myself with right now was sifting through shirts and pants, wondering if they would fit the girl. Never in my life had I harbored an interest in women's clothing, and I didn't intend to remedy that even for her.

I was just about to rejoin her when I ran into Nine. He was so strung up that he looked high, and I barely kept my disgusted sneer at him in.

"So, you've seen her naked and all now? She look as juicy out of her clothes as in them?"

Out of the corner of my eyes I saw Two tense where she had just turned to leave the room, and not for the first time I wondered if Nine would make her break her creed of being the only one who didn't carry a weapon at all times, even when we were at camp.

"What I've seen is exactly what you saw in the cell. A dirty, scared woman who shit herself to avoid getting raped. Do you honestly think there is anything about that image that makes my dick hard?"

Every sensible entity, human or otherwise, would have left it at that after hearing my acerbic tone, but not him.

"Yeah, but, you know, she's still a pretty girl and the way you've been after her -"

"Does not concern you in the least," I finished his sentence before I would have to ask Two for yet another stack of clothes because those in my hands would be crammed down Nine's throat far enough that he could fart them out the other way.

Turning again to end this conversation I heard him chuckle but did my best to ignore him. I really didn't want to leave the girl alone longer than I had to – and not for the reasons that imbecile might have assumed. The strength in her that drew me in was a fickle thing, and I didn't want her to kill herself when the will to survive suddenly morphed into the will not to. If that really was her choice I wouldn't stop her as I strongly believed that death at their own hands rather than someone else's was the one decision that should always be open to everyone, but I wouldn't let her off herself on a whim.

Back at the shower room I didn't enter but just held a towel inside, and I couldn't deny I felt better immediately when I heard the water being shut off before a light tug relieved me of my burden. I gave her enough time to dry herself off before I opened the door. Her skin was red and raw in patches, making it obvious that she had been scrubbing herself vigorously, but I didn't ask her if she'd managed to feel clean. It was obvious that she hadn't succeeded, and for that reason more than anything else I didn't touch her again but led the way with gestures only. She went willingly enough, and stepped into her new cell without much hesitation.

The sight of the mattress seemed to surprise her but she dressed without too much hurry. While reluctant to turn my back on her I did my best to give her as much privacy as I could without leaving the room again. The clothes seemed to fit her well enough, which she also confirmed when I asked her. Her voice still sounded pressed but her eyes had lost the haunted quality from before, and I decided I could leave her alone for a while longer as the worst of the shock had already worn off.

"I'll be back with your dinner in a few. You can use the time to settle into your new home."

She looked a little oddly at me, but before I could turn away her hasty "Thank you!" made me stop in my tracks.

"You're welcome."

I took my time checking that most of the important things for tomorrow were ready, before I grabbed two of the sandwiches someone had fetched for dinner, and a tray of water bottles. On my return I found her as I had left her, but like before gave her some space as I sat down and started eating my meal. She seemed a little perplexed that I chose to join her, so I felt compelled to breach the somewhat uncomfortable silence between us.

"I hope you don't mind me staying here for my dinner? But after seeing those mongrels nonstop for days, the company's getting a little stale."

"Suit yourself," she replied, then started to cackle, but I ignored the sounds she made after checking that she still looked on the more steady side of insane. It was funny to watch her eat, the first few bites she took deliberately and slow, but then went on wolfing down about half of the sandwich in record time. I contemplated keeping my trap shut but then decided that with just over twenty hours until I would likely never see her again, I should either speak up or make my peace with losing her.

"Ah, nothing like castrating idiots to stir up a good appetite."

She stopped chewing immediately and it was fascinating to watch her swallow, her throat convulsing visibly, but she got over it fast enough.

"Surprisingly, being an observer has the same effect," she admitted, her dry tone breaking the ice better than my offering of food and drink had before. Grinning at her retort I took a long drag from my bottle.

"It does, huh? At least I don't have to force-feed you at gun point again."

Although my words seemed neutral enough for me she clearly heard more in them than I had intended, because her face froze and became unreadable, while her eyes became restless. She seemed uncomfortable, but at the same time torn somehow.

"A penny for your thoughts? Not that you don't have enough reason to frown like that, but I always find it fascinating what strange and unbefitting things the human mind comes up with when confronted with severe emotional trauma."

She took her sweet time answering, but picking at her food didn't seem to yield the answer she was looking for, as her eyes finally shot up and bored into mine.

"Do you think I should feel guilty, or at least some sympathy for him?"

It was clear who she was talking about, and her imploring tone piqued my interest.

"Do you think you should?"

"Society would dictate it, right?" she argued, her voice passionate but at the same time laced with doubt. "I mean that's what they always say in movies and books, every rape victim feels like she somehow deserved it, or at least called it down upon herself. Shows what a kind soul she is, even then. And surely I should be scandalized that you cut his dick off, there must be other ways of exerting justice. Know what I mean?"

"I guess I do. But your tone tells me that you don't agree." And wise she was not to.

She shook her head, then briefly glanced at her hands still wrapped around the remnants of her meal before she caught my gaze again.

"I don't feel guilty. Yes, I talked back to him, but that doesn't justify rape. Nothing does. If you ask me if he deserved it – again – I think my answer is a simple yes, he did. No remorse, no excuses."

I couldn't help but smile at her explanation, but not only because I agreed with her. I already knew that she was smart – both intelligent and able to use that wit to her advantage – but it was that will to go to war with the conventions she had adhered to all her life that drew me inexplicably closer to her.

"So no hard feelings that I let him live? No begging me to off him for good so you can sleep well at night again?"

"I don't think killing him would help me sleep, and in a way, letting him live isn't really an act of mercy."

I fully agreed with her there, although my fingers still itched for that final slice that would lead to him bleeding out ever so slowly. Yet before I could get lost in that vision the sound of her voice made me focus on her again.

"You are really going to let him live then? Like you said, get the ransom money and he goes free. What about the rest of us? Is it really going to be that simple?"

It was surprisingly hard to make up my mind on how to respond to that. The easy way would have been to flat out lie to her, but I felt that she deserved more than that. Once again that yet unexplained pull she had on me reared its ugly head, that mix of desire and fascination that was so unfamiliar to me. But I couldn't allow myself to simply act on it, I had to know first that she was strong enough to be the woman I wanted at my side. Or if she was even interested in choosing that path for herself.

"Not that simple, no. I hate having to go back on my word as I generally try hard to uphold my promises, but I gave that before … circumstances changed."

"Meaning?"

"Before we learned just who we had accidentally snatched up, which complicates things."

My answers seemed to surprise her, but I couldn't say if it was my honesty or the fact that I simply confirmed her guess.

"You don't strike me as someone who would corrupt their own principles for money."

That made me laugh, and her slight smile in return urged me on to press my luck – and her.

"I didn't expect naïve idealism from you after all that."

My gentle rebuke didn't sit well with her, and it was funny to watch her cast around frustratedly for words to explain what she really meant.

"Not naïve idealism. I get that your killing spree, as you defined it, uses a lot of money, but it simply doesn't fit. If anything I would understand you letting him live so he could wallow in his misery for the next decades, but not because his dad hands over the big bucks."

The fact that she would have chosen cruelty over capitalistic reasoning endeared her further to me. Not even Two, who had long since become my status quo for how I defined an intellectual equal to me, was that ideologically clear in her motives.

"Somewhere a Hollywood screenwriter is crying right now, for the person who seems to understand me the best is a random girl I snatched up at a bank robbery."

"Random, my ass," she shot back, her eyes taking on a near feverish glare. "You took me with you because I sassed off to you before you drew your gun."

Guilty as charged.

"As I said, cheesy coincidence, wouldn't you say?"

She chose not to reply to that, but the fact that she had seen right through me, even under the less than helpful circumstances for psychoanalytical endeavors, proved to me that I wasn't just imagining that she must see something in me that she wanted. And at this point – similar to a bloodhound finally picking up the trail of his prey – I wasn't even considering letting her off the hook anymore.

"Which brings me to another point: why aren't you afraid of me?"

She had just been about to empty her bottle, but that got her struggling not to choke on the water. Once she regained her composure again she let her head fall back against the wall, regarding me levelly.

"Excuse me? I'm scared out of my wits because of you!"

"But there's a difference between because of me, and of me."

She laughed then, the brief sound holding incredulity as much as derisiveness, and the shot of bleakness it ended on wasn't what I had been aiming for. Whatever she saw in my face for a reaction sobered her up, though, and her voice sounded calm yet without the former exaggerated lilt.

"Don't worry, I'm afraid of you, too, if that's what you wanted to hear. But you're predictable to a certain point, I mean you don't act like a fucking lunatic, and that in turn makes you trustworthy."

"Nice save," I remarked, letting her see my mirth. "Why didn't you answer my question earlier? You must know evading me might anger me enough to make me get violent."

"True," she admitted, and I could see just how aware of that fact she was before she closed her eyes for a moment. "But you didn't answer mine, either. An answer for an answer?"

I gave that some thought, then laughed. "You've got guts, I give you that. Okay, an answer for an answer. I'll go first, so that means you owe me when I'm done."

She seemed to catch on to what I was really saying with that, but the deer-in-headlights look from before was gone from her eyes. Her will to cooperate alone deserved my honesty, and from where we stood, she was definitely the one who had more to lose.

"You were right, if it were just about the money I would have carved that asshole up from navel to neck, but as it is, I'm not alone in this endeavor. You probably don't know, or don't care, who he is, but the authorities do. You see, we've been doing this a little over two years now, and I'm proud to say that our last stunt before this one got me into the FBI's Top Ten Most Wanted list. Suffice it to say, our little exchange tomorrow will not only draw a lot of attention from the media. Ever since we accidentally offed a representative of the Senate in Ohio we've had some US Marshals breathing down our neck, and as it is, one of my compatriots has a thing for the gorgeous Marshal Barbie."

I myself could have done without the complication of making this personal, but Five was one of the more capable of the people who had stuck with me for a longer time, and I had to admit, my own connection with the Marshal Service spiced things up enough not to let a single mission turn boring. And what my father might lack for in efficiency and target practice, his partner made up ten-fold. I had the scars to prove it, and if anyone deserved to catch me unawares and shoot me in the ass, it was her. Sometimes I even wondered if it was my grudging admittance that she was the most capable opponent we had encountered that sparked Five's obsession with her. Or he simply had a death wish. It really wasn't my place to judge.

Focusing on the woman in front of me rather than the one who had come closest to ending my existence I found a look of incredulity edged onto her forehead.

"Don't tell me you're doing this to impress a girl? I mean, seriously?"

Her tone and words that would have better fit into a sit-com made me chuckle.

"Not me, and not really to impress her, but my friend insists that they have a connection, and as our dear would-be rapist won't leave the premises unscathed I'd say it's a deal I can live with. With a lot of luck he'll even live to see the disappointment in his daddy's eyes."

"Luck?" she echoed, at once serious again.

"As I said, can't let you go just like that."

Observant as she was, she obviously understood the true meaning of my words, but instead of being scared she looked curious.

"Care to elaborate?"

"Hm, not now, maybe later. Now, what about you?"

After all she had agreed to play this game, and while I was willing to give her some lee-way, I wouldn't be the only one doing a soul-strip tonight.

She still hesitated for a while, gnawed on her lip and plucking on the cover of the thread-bare mattress, but after a bit she seemed to have reached a decision, defiance once more breaking through the scared little girl mask she hadn't yet let slip completely.

"I was thinking that I find you weirdly attractive."

Her voice cracked as she uttered the words, and she had to swallow mid-way through the sentence, but she didn't seem apologetic about her admission.

"Attractive, huh?"

For a second it looked as though she would backpedal, probably at my predatory leer, but then she sat up a little straighter, meeting my gaze head-on.

"Yeah, now go on make fun of the stupid girl who's so predictable that she even rocks some nice Stockholm Syndrome, I can take it. It's not like you don't get that every other round of hostages."

"Surprisingly, the whole executing people business keeps most women uninterested in me, whatever psychological malfunctions their minds might be succumbing to otherwise. But what is quite remarkable is that the feeling is mutual."

She took that in with another hard swallow, and I had to admit, I liked her way of dealing with what must have been a frightening admission to her by dishing it out with that sharp tongue of hers.

"Oh, really? Somehow I doubt you're smitten with some gun-toting anarchist who might or might not put a bullet between your eyes if you mouth off too much to him."

Her rebuke got me laughing again, but I couldn't deny that to a certain point she was right. Fascinated as I might have been with her, I wasn't about to jeopardize our mission or the lives of my people just for her. And while I found her frankness and will to cross wits with me fascinating, I couldn't deny that should she overstep the line too often, I would deal with her the same way I always dealt with nuisances. The fact that she was aware of all that and still didn't turn into a cowering heap of frayed nerves just added to her appeal.

"Who knows? I think given the chance you'd be lethal with a gun, too."

I could see her defiance crumble then, and I wondered if she had reached that very same conclusion on her own. Time would tell if she learned to deal with being better at survival than compassion, but her reaction made me curious enough to want to be part of the experience, either way it would turn out.

When she still didn't look back up at me once the setting silence turned strained again, I decided to push on with the topic at hand rather than discuss probabilities that might never come to play out in the end.

"I know it sounds terribly cliché, and you should know by now how much I hate being put into metaphorical boxes, but I felt something like a spark between us in the bank. You know, before I pulled my gun and rained bloody murder onto the hallmark of consumerism, and all that."

At first she blinked, probably irritated at how I phrased that instant chemistry between us, but the smile slowly winning over her scowl was answer enough for me. Pushing myself off the floor I bridged the distance between us and sat down on the other end of the mattress from her, close enough to make a statement but still out of her personal space. Surprise was the foremost emotion in her eyes so I slid over, leaning closer so I could trace my fingers over the bruise forming on her cheek. She winced, likely because I was still hurting her, but she didn't shy away, and after a moment even relaxed.

"I would have brought you some ice but we don't have any. Blame whoever invented the portable electric cooler for that."

She laughed and finally met my gaze. The situation became surreal for me then, fitting better into a movie than the gritty reality of my life, but I just had to ask her my next question.

"Tell me, if I hadn't started all this, if I had just been any other guy who was there to whine for some loan rate extension, would you have gone on a coffee date with me?"

It was a truly hypothetical question as I wouldn't have asked her out, but then the thought alone that I might sink so low and beg anyone for anything was ridiculous in itself. In true movie moment travesty she creased her forehead as she pondered the question, but then shook her head ever so slightly, making my fingers dance over her cheek.

"No, I wouldn't. I've got -"

I interrupted her before she could go on – I had already guessed that part about her life, and couldn't understand why it angered me.

"A boyfriend, I know, the trustworthy young man so eager to help you tide over your recent loss of employment. Still, if I'd been persistent, and trust me, I can be a hell of a lot persistent, would you have let me buy you a Latte or whatever girly foamy abomination you'd chosen and try to talk you into seeing me again?"

It took her forever to reply, and this time I felt compelled to make her answer me as I couldn't fathom what was going on inside her head. At times she was so easy to read, but at others it was as if she completely shut down, lost in a train of thought that I knew would fascinate me if she just voiced it.

"There, you're doing it again, all those thoughts that run across your face and I have no idea what they mean but am dying to find out. I wish I could read your mind so I could see them all right inside your head."

She replied with a lopsided smile that wiped away the doubt from her eyes.

"I played through that scenario."

"Scenario?"

"Yeah, what you just said, coffee date, affair, getting locked unhappily inside a marriage I can't really stand with a man who's so bland that my parents both love him, that whole thing."

"So I'd be just that, an affair? Rough and tumble between motel sheets before you leave me standing in the rain for some guy you feel obligated to because he pays your rent? And that's what you would want?"

I had to admit, the idea, hilarious as it was, somewhat offended me.

"Not what I want. But it would be what I'd choose. What my parents raised me to choose. I'd do the right thing."

Her own words made her cringe, and for a moment I felt something close to sympathy for her. I knew the struggle she was going through right now – the time when you realize that what you've been striving for your whole life is the one thing that makes you so utterly unhappy. Yet change takes courage and I knew she had that aplenty.

"Who decides what the right thing is?" I pointed out. "Shouldn't you be following your heart or something? Isn't that what all the love songs are always about? Love at first sight, everlasting love, true love conquers all?" Another romance novel-esque quote she graced me with one of those small smiles for.

"Yeah, I don't think they meant running off with a murdering criminal who happens to be one of the most intelligent guys I've ever met, but still goes around killing people who make it their mission in life to ruin my day. Although that might have been considered romantic in times long gone, I guess. But as you didn't do it for me, the point is moot."

The playful lilt stood in wonderful contrast to her words, and the end seemed to hold a challenge that I felt like applauding her for. Grinning with mirth I moved a little closer, which made her tense for a moment, but then she relaxed even more as our knees touched.

"Romance is dead anyway. The only guys who believe in that are those emasculated fools who buy roses and sing love songs because their mommies wished they'd been wooed that way, but would never have fallen for that shit themselves. You don't strike me as a woman who falls for that crap?."

Either my observation or my closeness was making her a little twitchy, but eventually she answered.

"Maybe you're wrong. Maybe I'm a Mary Sue like all the other girls who'd sell the keys to their chastity belt to the first guy who'd pay them in flowers."

I let her see just how much her retort amused me.

"I don't think so. Maybe you go around pretending to be like that, but inside you're screaming, trying to break out of the cage of conventions and just be yourself for once in your life."

"And you think I should do that by throwing myself at you now, confessing my undying devotion and letting you fuck me into oblivion?"

I couldn't hide a smirk at her blurt, bold as it might have been, but she didn't back down, and while the look on her face was partly horrified, her eyes spoke of an entirely different story. There was no regret in them, that was for sure.

"I don't know, I think it's a little early for such oaths, don't you? And if you launch yourself at me I do expect a little more enthusiasm and participation from you."

The challenge in her gaze was clear, but after a moment she looked away and instead plucked at the mattress, obviously uneasy.

"Forget I said that. I think my head got hurt harder than I thought when he bashed my skull against the wall."

The wave of disappointment at her words took me by surprise, but I swallowed the feeling before it could make me grow a vagina.

"No, I won't, but as I said before, I don't go where I'm not invited." She seemed reluctant to follow her good sense in the whole matter as it was, so I tried to be her voice of reason – but I wouldn't be too devastated if she ignored me. "You should probably rethink that plan anyway, after all I am the murdering psychopath I appear to be. Not quite prime material to live out your Ikea nesting instinct with."

"So you don't have the glass dishes with the enclosed bubbles handcrafted by the indigenous peoples of wherever at home? Now I'm so disappointed."

That she had guts and wasn't completely shutting down even in the face of violence had intrigued me about her from the start, but the fact that she could flawlessly quote my favorite author of all times killed me. Her teasing reply was as much of an invitation as I needed, and I was getting sick of the game by now anyway. She looked surprised for a moment when I leaned closer to her, giving her a last chance to push me away, but when she didn't, I made my move.

Her lips were chapped but I didn't care when I smashed mine against them, then pried them open with my tongue. She immediately drew me closer as she fisted my shirt, and I brought my fingers up to grab the back of her neck to keep her still. A shudder ran through her as she moaned, deepening our kiss further. The previous nice girl act falling away from her like that made me want to push her onto her back and fuck her right away, but instead I drew out the moment, relishing the enthusiasm I had demanded earlier.

When I felt like I was going to suffocate I pulled back a little, just enough so I could focus on her face again. Her eyes were wide and filled with a feverish quality that resonated with the need inside of me, and I could see that I had her.

But I wanted her to really _know_ who I was, not just the few things she had picked up along the way. I wanted her to know and still choose me, in spite and because of who I was.

Confusion, then pain flitted over her face when I extricated myself from her, but I didn't dwell on that.

"I'm not saying no. I just really need a drink. And so do you, or you will once you hear what I have to tell you."

Hurrying out of the cell, I went right down to the central food depot to grab a bottle of booze and the first two glasses I could find. She hadn't moved in the time I had been away, but the composed yet harassed look she shot me demonstrated that she wasn't as calm as she seemed, or wanted to appear.

Handing her a glass I retreated across the room, giving her space should what I was going to tell her cause her to change her mind. I didn't really expect that she would, but maybe it wasn't conviction but denial that kept her friendly, and I didn't want to take any risks. I could deal with just walking out of her life and leaving her for someone else to rescue or neglect, but I didn't want to have to kill her myself should she lose it. Might have been a mercy compared to what could happen to her tomorrow, but as much as I wanted her blood on my hands – not in that way.

Trying to find a good opening for my confession – or excited recital, depending on the view – I pulled out my knife and started to clean it, intent on removing the last specks of dried blood that still marred its otherwise pristine glory.

"So what is it that you have to tell me?"

She had spoken up sooner than I expected, but I was all for moving things along.

"It's a story about me, my knife, and my sister. Or the day I like to think of as my birthday, rather than that random date when the whore that conceived me unleashed me onto this hellhole."

It didn't give me any satisfaction to refer to my mother that way, but I had never glorified her like others did, and in the context of the tale I was about to relate, any kindness I might have once felt towards her disappeared.

I saw her swallow as she paled a little, making me chuckle under my breath.

"It's exactly what you think it is. The first time I cut someone up was my sister, and girl, she had it coming, that bitch."

Letting my gaze drift from her eyes after a last poignant stare I focused on my knife, balancing the sleek weapon on my fingertips as I let my mind immerse itself in the exhilarating memories.

Even so many years later I still knew exactly how powerful that first slow cut had been. How seeing the blood well up had excited me; how plunging the knife into her fake tits had felt like the ultimate payback.

I had always wondered how someone like my sister could share the same gene pool as I. It wasn't her intelligence that I doubted – it was the insane stupidity she assumed to bask in the attention of others. Always Daddy's Little Girl, she had forsaken common sense to become a bland carbon copy of the image society praised above all else. She could have been so much more but she forsook it all – for that alone she deserved to bleed.

I probably wouldn't have done it if it had been just her usual impertinence. On some level she must have known that I was dangerous, as she never provoked me when we were alone. But the presence of the imbecile she let stick his dick into her made her cocky and reckless. When he was around she belittled me, laughed in my face, tried her best to appear superior and condescending. Couldn't have that, now could I?

In truth, it had only been a matter of time until I made my move. Ever since my grandfather had given me that knife I had been burning to use it – and not on the unlucky deer or rabbit he had intended it for. I knew I had to christen it in human blood, but it had taken me months to find the right target. In the end it didn't matter that technically the first drops touching the blade had been those of her boyfriend – what was a quick plunge into the side of his neck, severing his carotid artery so that he bled out within a few painful gasps, compared to the hour I had had to put my sister into her place?

Fond memories, only slightly tinted with rage at my parents forgetting about me, but that was another thing entirely. It was interesting to watch the girl's reactions while I told my tale in succinct detail where necessary; she tried hard to take it all in with her face emotionless and set in stone, but her eyes belied her apparent calm. Still, when I finished with a quick bout of accurate self-assessment as to where I saw myself in society – a sociopath and a killer – her gaze didn't turn away from mine when I caught it, the burn of the whiskey still tangible down my throat.

"Does my little tale disgust you? Make you want to run screaming from me? Am I really someone who you'd like to touch you?"

She cocked her head to the side at my question, but none of the doubt I had expected showed on her face. Her voice sounded a little hollow, but that was the only emotion she was willing to show.

"Disgust? Maybe a little, but it's nothing I couldn't have come up with on my own. Run screaming? Not very likely, I'd just become the next faceless body in a probably really long line. Are you someone who I'd like to be touched by? I don't know, but nothing you've just told me has changed my mind about that. To me, it just doesn't feel connected. I know it should, but it doesn't."

"What if it's connected for me?" I pushed on, sure that I had finally found that one thing that would make her show her true colors, and end this little cat-and-mouse game that we were playing. She blinked, obviously not catching my drift, so I explained. "To me, cutting someone is sexually arousing to a point. Can't deny the idea of taking it a step farther doesn't give me a hard-on."

Her brows drew together, and my stomach sank a little, although her reaction was the one I expected.

"You mean you want to carve me up while you fuck me?"

The incredulity in her voice made me laugh, but it wasn't a sentiment of joy.

"Ah, no, and before you go there, I'm so not into necrophilia, either. But cut you a little, a few shallow lacerations, just enough to bleed, maybe not even enough to scar, why not?"

It was hard for me not to grin at the way she was still frowning.

"Is that kind of a condition for you? You only have sex with a woman if she's so blindly devoted to you that she doesn't care what happens to her?"

This time fighting the laugh didn't help, but she didn't seem too put off by the sound.

"No. I want you aware, fully aware even, of what I'm doing. I want you to see, and I want you to know what I'm doing. I want you afraid and maybe even freaked out, quivering under my touch but keeping yourself from bolting. Not a stupid cunt who will impale herself just to get away, but someone with enough sense to lay still until I'm done. And after that I'm going to fuck you, not before, could get a little too tricky not to seriously hurt you. Would be bad for my track record, accidentally killing the only woman who's ever held my interest for more than a single second."

I couldn't believe how nervous that admission made me all of a sudden, but she thankfully seemed still too immersed with grasping the concept of letting me cut her to notice. But when she didn't say anything at all I took another sip from the bottle and let my eyes fall closed, wondering why I was even surprised that she obviously didn't want what I had to offer. The fact that her rejection stung was not lost on me, either.

"I knew you'd say no. See, not that different after all." I got to my feet then, looking at the sliver of sky visible through the small window. "Guess it was worth a try, though."

"Wait, I haven't said no yet!" she blurted out then, and when I turned to her and cocked one eyebrow she swallowed thickly, her face a little pale.

"Is that so? No, I guess you haven't, come to think of it. So is that a yes?"

"It's a maybe. It's - fuck, how can you expect me to make decisions like that now?"

"Do you really expect sympathy from me because some prick tried to rape you? I don't know what sympathy is, or compassion. The only thing I can offer you is admiration for your courage or contempt for your cowardice."

"I didn't mean it like that, I -" She cut off there, clearly frustrated with her inability to voice her thoughts. "Look, until we met I had a life. Not the best, and it got pretty boring over the last years, I admit that without hesitation, but I was happy. Or I thought I was. But ever since I met you my whole world has become unhinged, and I really don't know what to think anymore!"

She came to her feet then, and didn't flinch when I closed the distance between us.

"I don't think I've ever felt the same for anyone else. I have a million reasons why I should hate you, be disgusted or disturbed or whatever, and you keep adding to them, but somehow that doesn't change anything! I know you're bad for me, and dangerous, and I know that you'll have no qualms killing me if I lose it. It doesn't matter. My mind keeps screaming at me to back down, to close my eyes and stay passive and wait until you bundle me up tomorrow and lead me like a sheep to the slaughter, but I just can't. For once in my life I won't let things just happen, not when I have a chance to change them. Which I really can't, but the one thing I still have control over is my body."

She stepped even closer, craning her neck to keep looking into my eyes.

"I have every reason in the world to say no, and none to say yes. But I want you. And I want you to want me. I just -"

Guessing what she wanted to say I snorted derisively.

"You need a reason for love? Lust? What else but obsession and an insane drive for satisfaction, a craving that can never be fulfilled and thus makes us want more and more is love in the end? Love by definition is the ultimate negation of reason. If you really need a reason, then it can't be real, right?"

In turn she looked hurt, but at the same time my mockery seemed to make her decision easier for her.

"Okay."

Just not in the way I expected. For a moment I was tempted to ridicule her husky whisper, but the somber look on her face deserved my full attention. Only then did I realize that she had actually consented to my offer, if uttering that single word seemed to cost her dearly. Yet as if her concession had been some kind of cathartic confession she relaxed, although she still seemed to vibrate with tension. Reaching up I gently cupped her face, a little surprised at my own need to touch her, the sentiment mirrored in her eyes.

It was tempting to just go ahead and fuck her – after all she obviously knew what she was consenting to, and I had the feeling that nothing I could say right now would dissuade her. I knew that state all too well, loved to get high on it – but for some reason it didn't sit well with my ego that all she saw in me was her last chance to get off before she died. Or was there more to that look of yearning in her eyes? Only one way to find out.

"It doesn't have to end tonight. This doesn't have to be your last night on Earth, you don't have to throw yourself recklessly into a last wildfire before your flames are forever doused."

A displeased frown appeared on her face, but she didn't look away, nor did she back down. Instead she matched my stare in turn, the way her lips briefly pressed together a little defiant.

"What do you mean? Are you asking me to come with you? Because even if I survive and return to my life as it was, I know there will be no more flames for me. And right now I'm burning, brightly."

It took me longer than I liked to admit to come up with an answer for that. I still didn't know if she realized just how dangerous, and probably short, her life with me would be. All the while my cock screamed at me to just shut up and go ahead, the time for talking long over.

"I don't have a lot to offer. Only violence and death. I won't grow old to die in bed surrounded by my loved ones. Sometimes I'm surprised that I'm still alive. Is that what you want?"

"Truth and honesty, you offer that, too. And I'm so sick of all the lies, all the roles I have to play each day just to be normal - what is that even, normal? Society dictates that I'm disgusted by your offer, by what you want to do to me, to my body, but honestly? It is as terrifying as it is fascinating. It's sick and depraved and like nothing I ever thought of craving, but why not? You say you want me in a way you never wanted another woman - and I like hearing that. It appeals to my vanity, and fucking right, it's good to be wanted, craved. Fuck society, modesty, rules - you want me, I need you, there's no sense in saying no."

Sincerity rang through her speech, and if nothing else, it was those words – so close to my own ideology, but clearly what she herself thought – that swayed my decision. She seemed to be done with waiting, though, as she brought her hand up to where mine was still stroking her cheek, pressing down hard on the bruise until she gave the tiniest of winces.

"I want you. Please don't make me beg."

I couldn't help being amused by the notion that I would keep anything from her, least of all my body. Letting my hand slide to the back of her neck I grabbed her maybe a little too hard, letting the gesture convey my thoughts as much as my words.

"You'll never have to beg, not for this, not for anything. You'll take what you want, just as I do. And now I'm going to take you."

Maybe a bit on the archaic side, but she obviously approved when I pulled her close and pressed my lips against hers. Her whole body seemed to come alive as if that had been some kind of signal, her hands grabbing my clothes while she deepened the kiss on her own. I was glad that she seemed to be driven by need rather than some mushy sentiments, and matched her fervor with my own.

She didn't pull away when I bit her lower lip, snaking her hands under my shirt to claw at the thin fabric. Letting go for only a moment to yank the useless thing off my body I then proceeded to get her out of her clothes, making it just in time for her to get my pants off.

I stopped for a moment, staring down at her nude body, the way her breasts were moving under her ragged breathing, her light skin gleaming in the last rays of the sun. I'd never in my life felt self-conscious about my own nudity but was glad she didn't try to cover herself up, but instead held my gaze calmly.

Closing the distance between us again I picked her up, then knelt down on the mattress, spreading her out before me. With no unnecessary show of modesty she stretched out before me, her legs on either side of mine. I let my gaze roam over her, already getting distracted by the possibilities now presented to me. Unable to hold back I let my hands slide up over her strong thighs, then up to her breasts, painting invisible lines between the scrapes and bruises already covering her.

Finally reaching her head with my scrutiny I looked deep into her eyes as I leaned over her, letting her see just how much I admired what I saw – and I didn't even mean the superficial if pleasing picture before me, but all of her that she was baring to me.

"You're so God damn beautiful."

She let out a short laugh at that, the sound a little strangled as it belied her apparent calm, in turn making me grin.

"I don't think you need to use flattery to make me spread my legs, they are wide open already as it is."

"Not flattery, a statement. Call it an observation. But you are beautiful, your skin unblemished, your body soft where it should be, inviting, pleasing."

I knew my answer was as much of an evasion as an admission, but she seemed to like hearing that, so I didn't bother explaining any further. Instead I brought my lips down to her breasts, first inhaling the clean, cool scent the water had left on her skin, before I placed a single, light kiss there. She sighed contently and relaxed a little, her eyes drooping closed. I kept exploring her tits with my mouth a little longer, but impatience finally stalled my actions, making me reach for my knife.

Excitement gripped me hard as I slid the knife out of its sheath, the sound as familiar as it was exhilarating. Instantly she went tense, her muscles flexing as the impulse to bolt was overridden by her mind. Her eyes were wide when I looked at her face again, and she moved her hands to rest beside her head in a show of quiet submission. Her gaze became somewhat unfocused when she stared up at the ceiling, no longer focusing on me as I brought the blade closer to her body. Before I could touch her with it her head turned and she looked at me, her gaze both pleading and determined. Feeling like she deserved a little support I smiled gently down at her, all the while wondering what she really thought of what was about to happen to her.

"Don't move. I'd hate to hurt you – much."

I didn't leave her time to digest my words but went right back to licking and sucking at her tits, the blade hovering mere inches away from her skin. She moaned softly, clearly torn between fright and lust, but obviously not turned off by the mixture of emotions.

Both unable and unwilling to stall any longer I leaned back a little, turning my full attention to the knife. I half expected my hand to shake as I touched the hard edge to the soft flesh of her breast, but my whole arm was steady as I pressed down, just enough that the skin parted. She gasped, either at the slight pain or the sight of her own blood, but I was unable to focus on anything else than my work, now that I had started. Moving to her other tit I brought the knife down again, this time drawing it across her flesh to leave a red cut, about two inches long. I more felt than saw her body tense under me as I leaned in, then licked up the blood welling up from the small wound.

The sharp, metallic taste made me want to moan but I refrained from it, guessing that might just be a bit too much for her to take. She suffered my action in silence but kept tensing up, so I moved on to place a near parallel line next to the first one, slicing just a little deeper. A brief hiss was the only indication of her discomfort that I got, and when I looked at her face as I kept teasing the cut until it stopped bleeding I found it pale but lacking the panic I had anticipated.

While I was glad that she wasn't stupid enough to bolt, her still compliance wasn't exactly what I wanted. I knew that there was no way that she would enjoy this as much as I did, but I didn't want her to just tough it out, to endure and suffer in silence. Moving back to her other breast I wrapped my lips around her nipple, sucking on it until I felt her ease up a little again. Letting my free hand brush the inside of her thigh I kept that up for a little longer, just long enough to see the worst of the apprehension leave her face.

She still held her breath with trepidation as she watched me turn my focus lower, to her leg, just where my hand was still stroking her thigh. Leaving my motions still deliberate but working a little faster now I cut her again, two times, then went back to kneading her flesh while I lapped up the blood. I was sure that her mind must have been torn by the conflicting sensations but her body soon fell into rhythm with me, tensing as I brought the knife down, relaxing once I went back to gentler ministrations.

The whole ordeal clearly tore on her nerves, as with time progressing and more cuts marring the blemished canvas of her body the more she let me see her fear. But it was no quiet, suppressed emotion anymore, but something she openly shared with me, letting me have it just as much as her body, the gaze in her eyes feverish. Whenever I moved closer to her sex I could smell her arousal, the musky scent nearly as inviting as the metallic taste on my tongue. I felt my cock respond, my desire slowly turning to things other than blood.

Just as I had intended the last, deepest, longest cut along her hip finally made her snap, her body convulsing the moment I pulled the blade away to allow the blood to run freely into the crease of her hip towards her pussy.

"Stop, please, I can't -" she panted, then tried to slide away from me, but I held her in place quickly. The tip of the blade nicked the skin over her ribs, a ragged, accidental cut, but I didn't care about it in the least. Moving down I playfully lapped up the blood still seeping form the cut at her hip, then licked up her slit, teasing her clit while the taste of her blood mingled with that of her natural lubrication on my tongue. She immediately stopped struggling, although she didn't relax, but when I felt her fingernails scraping over my scalp I knew that her brief spell of protest was over.

As if the addition of a more direct form of pleasure to the mix had been a signal for her she started to grind her hips up against my face, silently urging me on although I was sure that the way my knife still dug into her side must have hurt like hell. She only increased her motions when I chuckled, but I moved away a short time later when I felt her lose her rhythm with her impending climax.

Letting her own need infect me I crawled over her body, staring into her eyes again when our faces were level. Waiting until she focused on me I dipped my head down to lave up the blood trickling from the wound under her ribs, savoring the taste as much as the sound of her ragged breathing.

I wasn't yet done licking my lips clean when she suddenly sat up, then grabbed my face and ran her tongue over my bottom lip, gathering up the remains of her blood. Her action was as unexpected as it was a turn-on for me, just as the low moan she uttered in turn. I pulled back from her so I could watch her more closely, smiling when she blinked a little stunned.

"I think we should stop with this, or you'll need stitches."

She molded herself against me as I kissed her, then pushed her back against the mattress. I let myself get lost in the kiss for a moment, then put the knife down next to her head, where her hands had rested while I had been cutting her. Grabbing her hips instead I pulled her legs up over mine, then aligned my cock with her pussy before I pushed into her in one quick motion. Just as I had expected she was wet with arousal, as if the way she wrapped herself around me hadn't been a dead giveaway of her enjoyment.

She panted loudly as I started to fuck her, no longer wanting to keep the constant stop and go of before up. The sounds coming over her lips grew hoarser as I let my mouth wander over her neck, sucking and biting at the column of her throat where I left a wholly different kind of mark than before. To grant me better access to her neck she let her head loll to the side, just as I had expected – leaving her nose inches away from my knife.

Closing my eyes I latched onto her skin more fervently, giving myself over to the feeling of my body driving into hers. My brain screamed at me to stop this bullshit, to take the knife and hurl it across the room, away from her grasp, but I had to admit, the knowledge of my vulnerability was unfamiliar and enticing. If she really wanted to, she could just grab the knife and sink it into the side of my neck, so prone right in front and above her; or simply slash my throat. I knew the moment she realized that opportunity herself as I felt her tense up underneath me, but instead of stretching herself to better reach for it, she brought her hands to my face and turned it up so she could kiss my mouth hungrily, her tongue snaking inside after she sucked on my bottom lip.

Bringing my hands to her ass I pulled us both into an upright position, ending with her straddling my lap while she raked my back with her fingernails, just as her hips started to grind against mine. Our kiss became more frantic, the same as our fucking, both of us done with playing games and yearning for release.

The slight pain of her fingernails on my skin drove me on, nearly to the point where I was about to forget everything else around me, until I heard a sound I hadn't expected to hear – a single yet heartfelt sob tore itself from her throat. It made me go still instantly, before I grabbed her and pulled her off me so I could look at her face.

Her eyes were wild and a multitude of emotions was warring on her face, too much to be mistaken for just getting lost in the moment. She needed a little time to clear her head, then impatience took over, and she frowned up at me.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"You just sobbed, that's not nothing."

She seemed confused, but then shook her head, not quite in denial but obviously still vexed by something.

"It's really nothing. Not important, not now, not ever."

I hated that she lied to me, but I knew that there was no sense in dragging this out. Whatever was going through her head was something she wanted to keep to herself, and I was not beyond leaving her that small sense of privacy. She also seemed hell-bent on making me forget about it, the way she moved against me, and I couldn't hold back a moan. In turn the haunted look fled her eyes, and I decided to chase away whatever was bothering her with action. Reaching up to cup the back of her head I kissed her again, sloppy and full of need, and when I relented and picked up fucking her again, it was obvious that now I had her full attention.

She came surprisingly fast, at the last moment wrenching her head out of my grasp so she could sink her teeth into my shoulder, making pain race through my right side. Relishing the sensation as much as everything else I let myself go in turn with a few hard thrusts, until I remained buried deep within her, feeling our bodies grow still together slowly.

While I held her close and let my fingers run up and down her spine I wondered what had just happened. Not the sex per se, that was pretty straight forward, but the way I felt about it. Her. I had always enjoyed sex, but it had never been anything except satisfying one of my baser urges. Yet this felt somehow different. More. I couldn't even describe it, nor did I really want to, but for the first time in my life I felt like maybe there was something more meaningful than rutting around until I could shoot my load into a faceless vessel somewhere..

Shaking my head at my own scrambled thoughts I forced myself to focus again. And as much as I would have loved to remain here longer with her warm, soft body against mine, I knew that I just couldn't. In fact I was already running dangerously late.

"Shit, I need to get going."

She gave a protesting grunt as I pushed her away from me as gently as I could, but of course didn't manage to ignore the disappointed look on her face. Reaching for her again I took her head in my hands and kissed her slowly, tenderly.

"I wish I could stay, but we really didn't time this well. I spent the last two days waiting for that idiot to make a move at you, but of course he had to wait until the evening when I have to go out and prep things."

"Prep things? And does that mean you really had our cell under video surveillance?" she asked, the look of hurt fast giving place to curiosity. Elated that she wasn't going to ruin everything by moping around now I grinned, then nipped at her chin playfully.

"Don't worry, that feed won't go online anywhere. Although one of my associates proposed compiling a best of vid of your would-be rapist to send to the press. We'll see. And yes, I need to set up things. Get-away cars, scout out possible escape routes, plant a few explosives, the usual."

Kissing her one last time I let go of her, then got up to dress. She watched me the whole time while she remained sitting on the mattress, either ignoring or not minding her own nudity.

"Like what you see?" I asked when I was done with my pants, turning back to her.

"Does it matter?"

That made me laugh, and I crouched down before her again after pulling on the t-shirt.

"I guess not, but shouldn't you be stroking my ego now? Women usually do that, they ohh and ahh at my hair, my abs, my eyes, my chiseled chin, stuff like that."

"And there I was about to complement the nicely healed bullet holes on your ass. Glad I didn't say anything."

I grinned for a moment, but then forced the mirth away. She raised her brows at my intent staring, clearly wanting to know what had prompted my sudden change of mood.

"You have a choice."

"Now do I?" she quipped back, but then sobered when I didn't respond to her mocking tone.

"Tomorrow I mean. You can help me, or you can trust the SWAT team to get you out of there. One of these options will very likely get you killed. The other will probably force you to kill someone. You have to decide yourself what you can take, and with which decision you can live for the rest of your life, however long that might be."

I got up then to leave her alone with her thoughts, but halted when I reached the door. Exhaling loudly I turned back to her, pressing the words out before I could change my mind about them.

"For what it's worth, if I die tomorrow, it will be the first time I won't feel like my life was a waste of resources."

She stared at me with a shocked expression, and I hurried out of the room before she could say anything in return. Letting routine shut up the nagging voice in my head that called me a pansy I locked the door, then keyed the motion sensor to silent alarm as I exited the hallway. It wasn't in my nature to leave even the slightest possibility for her to screw things up now that I felt like I had a good shot at making her turn on the world and throw her lot in with me, and while I trusted some of my compatriots, I didn't put it above a few of them to do something incredibly stupid.

I wasn't surprised to find One and Two hovering in the common room, wearing different expressions of identical concern – that I once again ignored. It occurred to me that in the last few days I had done more ignoring than the whole rest of my life, which was disconcerting to say the least, but also weirdly relieving. Things were changing, and for once not for the worse.

While I was sure Two was burning to harass me about details, she just handed me our customary checklist for the last night before the second part of our operation was to go down. Even though my mind had been way too occupied with spying on the girl things seemed to progress as usual, showing me that while still their leader, the movement I had created could survive well enough without me by now. As it was, we were ahead of schedule with the ransom having been accepted and a promise for delivery the next day in exchange for the now even more lacking imbecile already cleared; the only thing left to do was scout out the real location we were going to make the exchange at, and time all possible escape routes.

I was reluctant to team up with One as I figured I wouldn't get around having a meaningful conversation with him when we were stuck in the same car for hours, but I knew that breaking routine would have seemed weird, and I couldn't risk compromising the faith my compatriots had in me. It was actually hours later on our way back home after testing three routes in and out of the city when he reached for the radio and shut it off, forcing my attention to switch to him instead.

"You know, I've always wondered what your freshly fucked face looks like, but I didn't expect you to frown that much, you know?"

I shot him a long look, then directed my attention back to the road.

"If there's something you need to tell me, go ahead, but I hate to have to break it to you, I'm very sure I'm straight."

He just laughed my insinuation off.

"Oh woe is me, my heart breaks! But seriously, what's with the glum mood? You spent enough time down there with her to discuss world politics and fuck her senseless afterwards, although I wouldn't put it beyond you to do both at the same time. Something happened that ruined your sweet plan of coexisting bliss?"

Now it was my turn to offer a derogatory snort.

"Sure, right after comparing 'War and Peace' to 'Freedom' we agreed to get a house in upstate New York with a white picket fence and two point seven kids and a dog that she will herd around in her SUV. Could you be any less original with your assumptions?"

"Okay, let me be candid then, did she go into shock and you spent the whole time wondering what you ever saw in her, or did things go according to your expectations?"

I felt like telling him neither, as I certainly hadn't counted on having to rescue her from getting raped after she shit herself, but I knew that I couldn't avoid the topic for much longer.

"I think she's going to help us."

"You think?"

"Yes, I don't just count the stains on the walls during the time I sit around in silence, I actually occupy myself with noteworthy contemplation of worthwhile things, why do you ask?"

"Cut the crap," he snorted, but then remained unfamiliarly somber. "So you two really hit it off? She not only wants to get out of this alive but stay with you?"

I shrugged, a little uncomfortable with discussing the topic as I didn't really know a definite answer to it yet.

"Maybe."

"Oh, you must have it bad if you start going all hypothetical and hopeful!"

That didn't deserve an answer, and I used having to concentrate on the road for an excuse not to give any. As usual One wasn't concerned in the least.

"Be that as it may, I hope that doesn't compromise our plan for tomorrow?"

I shook my head, now really avoiding looking at him.

"Of course not. If she's still bent on coming with me I'll do my best to get her out of the harness in time, and if we don't make it I won't really have a lot of time left to consider what failure means in this case, right?"

He seemed a little stunned by my statement, up to the point where he completely dropped the subject.

"So, Viva Mexico for us soon? I already found this perfect beach I think I will lie low on, crystal clear water, no sharks, waves most of the year, and no one else around for miles! Can you imagine that?"

"You alone on some beach? Who would laugh at your not funny jokes then?"

"Ha, ha, you can be such a dick sometimes, you know?"

"Why, thank you for this most accurate assessment."

We kept up the banter for a while, but I couldn't seem to relax as I used to, on the rare occasions when we had the freedom to let our guard down. We were already getting close to the compound again when I realized there was one last thing I needed to discuss.

"Can I ask a favor of you?"

"A favor?" he sounded genuinely surprised.

"Of sorts. I need you to handle her until we get to the station, I cannot concentrate on getting everything running according to plan and keep her in line. If she really wants to bolt she'll have all the chance in the world when we get to the station, but before that I need to know that you make sure she doesn't get harmed."

He blinked, clearly surprised, but then nodded.

"Sure thing. One babysitting job coming right up." Flashing me a bright grin he leaned closer then, narrowing his eyes dramatically. "But in turn you have to answer a question."

"Seriously?"

"Of course, you know me. Is she worth it?"

Strangely enough I didn't even have to think twice about the answer.

"Yes."

He nodded sagely although I was sure my admission must have surprised him, but he left it at that.

Back at the compound I didn't really get a chance to talk with Two alone, but I was sure that One would fill her in eventually. She seemed already stressed enough as she was coordinating all the last minute logistical details that needed to be taken care of so we could rain bullets on the authorities without having to handle everything else, and I knew that it was vital for her to keep her concentration. With only two more hours to spare I lay down and tried to get some sleep, and when that didn't work I showered before going to take my place in our fun little game.

Xxx

The brown eyed girl was awake when I rejoined her in her solitary confinement, not surprisingly. I wondered briefly if she had slept at all, but didn't ask how she was doing as it was inconsequential to what I needed to know. Still, I waited patiently for her to sip some of her coffee and dig into her breakfast before I posed the question that would dictate whether I would have to change my routine, or not.

"Reached a decision yet?"

She stopped mid-chew, then swallowed her mouthful of bagel.

"Honestly? No."

I offered her a smile, glad that she wasn't just saying what she must have realized was what I wanted to hear.

"Doesn't matter. I'll ask you again before we go, and a last time before the big showdown. You know you shouldn't trust me, and even less want to stay with me. Your life will be over, and there's no going back. Why should you go with me?"

"I don't know. Why do you do the things you do?" she asked me in turn.

I gave that some thought, but the answer was easy to find.

"Because I can." I waited for her to scoff, or at least seem surprised, but she just took it for what it was, the truth, so I went on. "No trigger, no terrible childhood, even though I feel my parents neglected me. I'm a spoiled rich kid that grew tired of everything around him. I don't even have a mission statement, and I'm not in it for the money. I guess you could even accuse me of a kind of decadence in my little crusade. But that's not the point, we were talking about what you should do."

Until then she had been doing so well, but the next words that tumbled over her lips made me want to sneer at her.

"I don't even know your name."

She didn't get the hint and went right on, yapping about some stupid excuse for her insipid question. As if names mattered compared to what else I had dragged her into. For a moment I even wondered if she was slowly losing it, but then a semblance of humor peeked through the otherwise serious look on her face.

"So shall I call you Tom now? The part about the beer keg is a little rough on the ease of conversation. Or do I have to make do with what I've been calling you inside my head for the last few days?"

"Which would be?" This was going to be good.

She hesitated for a moment, but then caught my gaze again.

"Suit Guy."

"Very inventive," I huffed, good-naturedly. "Particularly since I haven't worn a suit since we got here."

"But you wore one in the bank and it's shorter than Weird Eyed Murderous Killer Bee."

Unable to hold back a laugh I cocked my head at her.

"I guess then I should repay that in kind. Although Suit Guy and Bucket Girl just doesn't have the same ring to it as Bonnie and Clyde."

"Or Boris and Natasha. Although I can't say I'm too happy about that nickname, either."

"Guess that's another reason for you not to help me."

"That you don't have much imagination when it comes to names? Nah, I think I can overlook that. But maybe leave that part to me, I can do better with a little time to come up with something good."

Now I couldn't ignore the fact that she seemed to be trying to evade my question.

"But why would you want to come with me? Not that it doesn't flatter me, but you don't strike me as the adventurous type. I wonder if you've ever willingly risked something in your whole life."

"I let you cut me, remember?"

Her voice sounded almost defiant, and a little as if my question had insulted her.

"True, and I'm unlikely to ever forget that. Still, it wasn't really your decision, and certainly not your idea. I'm sure you do everything in your life with deliberate planning, think over your options until you know just what to do, never let anything up to fate."

"You believe in fate?"

"Let me phrase that differently – unprecedented circumstance. Like the fat old security guard returning early from his smoke break for the first time in ten years. Or the scared mother turning out to be a martial arts fanatic. Changing schedules, traffic congestion, accidents. I don't remember the last time I planned something and it worked perfectly. There's not an ounce of security left in my life, and that's exactly what I can offer you. The question remains, what do you prefer, a dull safe haven of delusion or the stark reality of anarchic crime?"

Her hesitation upon answering was brief at best.

"I can't go back. Even if I didn't feel like leaving you would equal cutting my own heart out, I don't think I can do this anymore. Pretend to be content in my happy little cotton fluff filled box."

"So what you are really saying is you're head over heels in love with me, and you'd rather die in a rain of bullets than spend the rest of your miserable life tied to a man who you don't love and who cannot satisfy your needs?"

She mostly ignored my mocking, but her reply was still to the point.

"Why not? Would you say that staying passive for the rest of my life is any better than that?"

"Certainly not. I was just wondering if that would sound just as insane spoken out loud as it does inside my head."

"Sometimes insanity is the only option."

"True enough," I conceded, then sat up. "I still won't take your answer for final, because having loaded guns pointed at you might change your mind again. But as you don't seem averse to actually be of some use in our coup, I should probably tell you what we're up to."

Her eyes narrowed, and the way she scrunched up her nose was almost cute.

"Isn't it kind of stupid to let me in on the plan when you're not sure yet that I won't tattle to the authorities?"

"Trust me, should you choose not to come with me you'll be very busy running for your life and won't have time to tip anyone off. It's really a fail-safe plan, either it works, or we'll end up dead within a few minutes."

I let that sink in, then went on explaining.

"I told you before we need four hostages minimum. That was a lie, we need exactly four hostages, one meat shield for each of us. It goes without saying that more people than me and my three companions you've had to work with during your stay here are involved in this, but like always, we'll be at the front and center of the commotion that will hopefully earn us twenty-seven million dollars, tax free of course."

The number seemed to impress her.

"So corrupting your ideals is worth more than that?"

"Let's just say my ideals can't really be bought," I grunted, yet I felt like in a way I was justifying my actions. "Although your offer yesterday came close enough to make me second-guess some of them."

That made her smile a little, and in turn I wondered just how much of her apprehension last night had still been an unconscious act to be a proper, decent girl, and how much of her enjoyment I had underestimated. Yet as that was futile guessing, I discarded that train of thought before it could lead to my trying to find out first hand. As it was, my stalling had made me rather short on time.

"As I said, four meat shields. The exchange will happen at the Central Station at High Noon. Very dramatic, I know. We plan on detonating enough charges to destabilize the building; furthering our chance of getting away each hostage will be rigged with a harness carrying enough C-4 to blow up everything inside a thirty foot radius, set to detonate in a sequence of 15 second lags between each charge, starting at T plus 15 from when I press the trigger."

I watched comprehension dawn in her eyes, but she took in the information as it was.

"Now you have a choice, a quite interesting one to boot. You can choose to either trust me, or trust some random Good Samaritan of the bomb squad who might or might not endanger his own life by trying to get you out of that contraption before it spray-paints the walls with your half vaporized tissues.

"Your chances of survival aren't too bad. As using explosives is kind of our thing we've had our very own Explosive Ordnance Disposal team for the last six months or so, following with the train of FBI, US Marshals, Homeland Security and whatnot that's until now never quite managed to get a hold on us. The EOD team leader is a true egomaniac and proclaimed fan of 'The Hurt Locker', and never hesitates to re-enact his own SFC William James stunts, so if you're lucky, he'll throw himself at you and he might be skilled enough to either defuse the bomb you're carrying, or get you out of the harness in time. Suffice it to say, we sadly have to keep the last charge for our dear friend to keep the firing squad at bay until he's either safe or vaporized, so you have forty-five seconds from click to boom."

Looking down at the cup in my hands I exhaled slowly.

"Obviously, it would take time for you to run away from me, for him to assess the harness and decide what to do, forty-five seconds can be a very short time. Might not be enough, in fact. On the other hand, if you side with me, I doubt it'll take me more than fifteen seconds to cut that thing off you and throw it into the assembled mass of cops and soldiers to cause even more of a commotion. Might also be the safer option as I don't know who our bomb squad hero will chose to save, the damsel in distress or the rich kid he gets paid double to protect. His team members might be a little less reckless, hesitate more, and boom, there goes your chance at telling your grand tale to your grandchildren."

"How do you even know about that bomb guy's ambitions?"

It seemed strange that she would ask that question of all the many that must have been racing through her head, but the ridiculousness of the answer deserved to be shared.

"Fucking facebook, of course, where else?"

"So, let me sum this up to see if I get this right. Either I believe in the good of humanity that's based on naiveté, a social network site, and the hope that my gender will invoke some age-old code of morality that says 'save the woman over personal monetary gain', or I put my trust into the guy who has no problems fixing a fucking detonator to my body and thinks no one will take a shot at him while he tries to cut the explosives off me?"

"Oh, no, I'm sure the moment they realize I'm trying to help you, effectively making you one of the bad guys, they'll start shooting. As I said, meat shield. I'll give you my gun before I get my knife out and it's your job to defend me while I work on setting you free."

Her loud intake of breath was tangible, and it took her a while to stomach the news of the extent of which her conviction could cost her. Not for the first time I wished I could read her mind, or make her at least voice her thoughts, but when she remained silent I went on driving the spike home that would cause the last of her delusions to shatter.

"Choose wisely, because whatever you do, this choice will define how your life goes on from there – or not. You're at a cross-road, facing the ultimate question – what side do you chose, good or evil? As always, evil is easier, more tempting, but once you're out of that building, you'll be hunted for the rest of your life. If you choose good there's no guarantee you will make it, but you'll forever be the traumatized victim. If you're clever you can live off the proceeds from selling your story to the tabloids and talk shows for a few decades. Write a book, found some charity and you're done for life. The question remains, which of the two ways can you live with, and which one will sooner or later make you blow your own head off?"

She looked a little forlorn for a moment, but then caught my gaze again.

"Hypothetically, if I throw my lot in with you, would you just let me go if one day I decided I didn't want to be part of all this anymore?"

My first impulse was to say no, but then I would have branded myself a hypocrite. I wouldn't want her to leave, but just as I wasn't going to force her hand now, I wouldn't hinder her then.

"I would. If you'd want to, even directly after the thing goes down. As you helped me you'd get a cut from what we could make, probably one to two mil. Maybe you could claim your aforementioned Stockholm Syndrome, but they'd still lock you up in a psychic ward for a while. But I wouldn't hunt you down and kill you, if it's that what you're worried about. You'll never be obliged to stay with me, if we don't work, we don't work, end of story. Can you say the same about your boyfriend you were so concerned about as you cheated on him? After all if he takes over paying for your loans you'll have an obligation to him. Doesn't that make playing house and marrying him all the sweeter?"

The fact that she was feeling guilty was so obvious that I was about to ask her about it, but she moved on before I could dwell on that.

"How high are the chances that we get away?"

"Pretty good, I'd say," I guessed. "We've had time aplenty to plan things, even if everything goes to hell the moment we enter the building we have a good chance to escape. As we don't necessarily depend on the money we could be a little less reckless, but where's the fun in that? I'd say sixty percent for you if you come with me, forty for our whole team getting away alive. We're close enough to the border to attempt a clean getaway, so we'll even get a vacation after a job well done, that's always good to boost morale."

"You should have planned for your heist to end on a Friday, that would have furthered that long weekend feeling," she joked.

I chuckled, getting to my feet. I had told her everything she needed to know, and by far enough to reach a decision. Now it was her turn to make it.

"First but not yet final decision, what's it gonna be? Me or some do-gooder?"

Her answer came a little too fast, but it wasn't one I felt like protesting.

"You."

"Ah, I see. A wise decision, even if you change your mind later, it's the safer position to take. Wait here, I'll be right back."

"As if I'd go anywhere," she huffed, torn between annoyance and dejection. I left her sitting there as I went to fetch the stack of clothes Two had set aside for her, then upon my return explained to the girl what the deal was about the Kevlar vest, and our get-away plan with simply ditching one layer of clothes for another as camouflage.

She still looked a little distraught as I left her to dress and went to don my own costume. The time I had spent with her this morning seemed like the calm before the storm, as the moment I joined the others I got bombarded with the first slew of important things that still needed to be done, or were already running off track. We should have been underway already when I actually got to strapping all the weapons and spare ammo I could comfortably carry to my body, and there was still one last matter to take care of.

Leaving One and Five in charge of rounding up the other hostages I returned to the girl. She seemed to be getting restless already, but I still checked her vest and told her to dirty herself up a little more to fit in better. After I fixed the usual restraints around her wrists and arms I couldn't stop myself from stealing a last, slow kiss from her. I waited until the gesture had mellowed her down enough before I gagged her with a strip of duct tape, resulting in her sneering at me – or at least trying to. Kissing her nose lightly I then took her arm and pulled her after me, downstairs and into the yard where the others were already waiting.

I was not pleased to find the number of our charges decreased further than I remembered. Not because I cared about the unlucky sod missing, but because I didn't appreciate this kind of initiative from my compatriots when it was vital that everyone stick to their assigned tasks.

"Consider me confused. Weren't there seven hostages left this morning when I went out to get breakfast?"

None of the others answered my observation so I let it go, instead focusing on the girl as I brought her to a halt next to her would-be rapist. I could have kept them separate but was fascinated whether she would cave and cower, or show the kind of fire that got me to notice her in the first place. Making sure that her sense of self-preservation wouldn't get in the way of her actions I winked at her, hoping that would be enough.

Turned out it was, much to my amusement. She didn't even wait to see whether the imbecile would gloat at her, but kicked him right into his mutilated groin. His resulting scream didn't make her flinch, and the rage in her eyes was most promising for what was to come.

One seemed somewhat bemused by her vindictiveness but didn't need a signal from me to pull her away so I could pretend to threaten the living shit out of her, but the way he and Five exchanged knowing looks once he let her go again made me want to ask them if they would paint each other's toenails next. Instead I turned to the remaining hostages, addressing all of them as one as I relayed the facts.

"Well, well, who would have thought that five days could pass so quickly! To me it feels like yesterday that we herded you together in the bank, wouldn't you say? But enough with the small talk, I know that my pleasant banter must seem like superficial small talk to you. Congratulations, the six of you made it so far alive, if not quite unscathed."

I couldn't help smirking at the idiot then, but as he was wise enough not to meet my gaze I just went on.

"The sad news, for you at least, is that we really only need four of you. It pains me to decide which two of you I should off, so I'll let you do the choosing. Sadly, I can't let it be an open vote without restrictions as one of our charges here has to survive a little longer, but the other five of you, go ahead, talk it out between yourselves."

Stepping away from them I ripped off the duct tape currently keeping the girl from talking, then left them to discuss this for themselves. It was a needless gesture anyway as she didn't even get to have a say in the end, but the others made it easy for me who to shoot. It wasn't even out of vindictiveness that the morons chose the girl as being expendable, but more that without blinking they singled out the two weakest members of their group. Commendable attitude, really, that deserved to be recognized. They might have disagreed about my manner of recognition, but their lifeless eyes staring up at me didn't bother me.

"Thank you for your cooperation, I'm sure your fellow hostages will forever be grateful for your pointed observations." Turning back to Five I added, "Gag them again and throw them into the back, we better get going."

One was already moving to blindfold the remaining hostages after he had applied a new strip of duct tape to the girl's face, then they bundled everyone up and marched them over to the waiting van. I got into the passenger side front seat once they were safely stored away, nodding at Nine to gun the engine. My latest demonstration of not really giving a shit about them had apparently leeched what little will of resistance our guests had retained, and they didn't put up a fight when we stopped along the way and strapped them into the harnesses. I caught One whispering something to the girl but didn't inquire about it, seeing as there was no sense in tipping the others off that she had actual reason to panic because she knew where the weight of the harness came from.

Even though traffic was heavier than we had anticipated we were making good time, and when we reached the highway exit that would have led us right to the mall where the exchange should have taken place had we stuck to the plan I turned to glance over my shoulder back to One.

"Is the helicopter still following us?"

I had spotted it a short time after the news crew had evidently seen us, not a huge feat considering Two had emailed them the specifics of our mode of transport shortly after we had hit the city limits. Time for our usual tip of the hat to the press to keep ensuring their cooperation. The fact that it was already the third time we were pulling this stunt and they had never ratted us out to the authorities just so they could later get a statement from us again amused me to no end. It was good to know that I wasn't the only cold-hearted, ruthless bastard out there.

"Yup. Tell me when I should call Grace," One nodded.

"Two minutes. After all we don't want to be too early for our own party."

Waiting impatiently, One kept glaring at his mobile as if that would make the seconds tick by faster, but before long he grinned and hit dial.

"WICC? Yeah, please patch me through to Grace On Air right away. Yes, I'm a very special friend. Uh uh, yeah, I thought she was waiting for my call already."

I listened to his side of the conversation with a faint grin on my face, wondering how much our change of locations would screw with the response team. They should have learned from their past mistakes to take us seriously if we offered them even the smallest opportunity for negotiations, but not to trust that whatever we said was actually what we were going to do. Two had once pointed out that this kind of dishonesty didn't really suit our cause, but I couldn't care less. For me, this was just another way to rub salt into a certain someone's wounds, and if my private crusade made me seem petty and vindictive, so be it.

Another turn in the road and we had reached our goal, the glass facade of the Central Station looming ahead. Bracing myself for the sensation of getting jostled around I nodded at Nine to go ahead, and he maneuvered the car smoothly across the three lanes and up the stairs into the main hall of the station without any further ado. Maybe not all was lost with him.

Not even waiting until the car had slowed down I turned in my seat, looking at our bound captives in the cargo area in the back.

"Lady and gents, we've reached our final destination, please prepare to be unloaded."

Even before most of the people inside the building had noticed what was going on I was out of the car and around to haul open the back door, helping One and Five to unload our four remaining hostages. Grabbing the girl by her left arm I tugged her close to my chest while I got one of my SIGs out, then relieved her of the jute sack still covering her head. Her face was smeared with tears and snot, her cheeks red from the heat shock her body must have been close to, but that only helped to underscore her role as the victim in our little game. Moving into position I took my place between One and Five in our loose semi-circle around the truck at our backs, and pressed the barrel lightly against her temple. Not that I figured I'd need to apply force there, but for some reason many people acted a lot less stupid when they found themselves confronted with someone threatening to blow the head off a cute girl.

The station was deserted compared to the throngs of people I had encountered when I scouted it out during the evening rush hour, using the general commotion to disappear completely in plain sight. There were still about a hundred or so travelers around, who seemed to catch on to what was going on now with increasing speed. Before long veritable mayhem broke out as half of them fled the building, fighting their way through the usual crowd of spectators. The first news crew was already taking up their place near one of the exits as I fished for my knife one-handedly, and cut through the cable bindings still restraining the girl's wrists between our bodies.

I told her to hold her hands at her sides and to keep her trap shut, then proceeded to tear the duct tape off her mouth. She winced, then drew in a deep breath, but instead of calming down now that she was no longer tied up and blindfolded, she started to hyperventilate as panic got her to tear open her eyes.

I wasn't really all that surprised about that reaction but had hoped to avoid it, and in a last attempt to keep her lucid enough for her to be of use to me I tightened my grip on her and hissed into her ear.

"Don't lose it."

Unlike shouting or physical harm my words seemed to get through to her, and she stopped gulping useless air into her lungs momentarily. The next inhale was steadier if still a little shaky, but color returned to her face slowly.

"That's much better," I added, a little condescendingly but she didn't seem to notice. Allowing myself to ease up for a last moment before the shit hit the fan I lightly brushed my lips against her ear and continued to whisper to her in an attempt to calm her further.

"I know you're afraid, but we have another five to ten minutes until the whole posse arrives from where they've taken up their stand at the mall. It's just two blocks down this road, and today's the first time we've ever switched locations, so you have a few moments to collect yourself and consider again what you're going to do now."

When she gave a miniscule nod I slid the knife back into the holster at my hip and got out the Heckler & Koch MP5 which until that point had made my life moderately miserable, strapped as it had been across my lower back. Bringing it across her stomach I held her in a somewhat gentle embrace, hoping that the physical closeness would help her keep a good grip on herself. Never having been in her situation I had no idea of the emotional impact she would have to tough out even before she was forced to kill in self-defense, but I wasn't that far beyond caring that I could ignore that she was highly stressed out.

About a minute and a half later a commotion at the other end of the huge hall occurred, and one after the other the groups of armed and armored faceless troops came barreling through the mass of onlookers. To keep her occupied I started pointing them out to her, should she, for whatever reason, miss the thick white letters spelling out their units. She gave a low, nearly desperate sounding moan when not even the ominously dressed bomb squad guys looked in her direction, nearly everyone focusing on Five and his idiot captive instead. There were only two people who stared at her – a nondescript guy in his early thirties and a moderately attractive if somewhat too forcefully youthful woman in her fifties – and I figured it was about time to press her into making a decision before the presence of the last two persons who might sway her against me could change her mind.

"Reached a decision yet? Can't say that their lack of attention bodes well for you. Although you can always run to them and force them to deal with you, either way that might solve your problem."

She huffed at my mocking tone, but her voice was steady enough to sound convincing when she answered.

"What do I have to do? While you're cutting the damn harness off me, I mean."

I knew exactly when she recognized her boyfriend and mother, as she went rigid as a statue. I had to admit, whoever had found them and brought them along had for once not been as full of shit as I was used to from the not-quite masterminds I had to deal with all too often.

"Ah, seems like the profilers in Quantico had a field day with this one. Let me guess, the youthful appearing woman in her best years is your mom, so the anxious looking guy next to her must be the unlucky bastard you cheated on yesterday."

I could have phrased it differently, but I knew that she still felt guilty about what she had done – or rather how much she had enjoyed it – and guessed that defiance would help her cut the ties she still had to them more easily than sympathy for their obvious distress. I wondered how long it would take her to say good-bye in her head, but she didn't disappoint me when she found her voice again.

"Tell me what I have to do," she repeated, still somewhat deflated but the steel I admired about her character back in evidence. It was then that I knew that I had her, and that unless some uncanny bullet chewed its way into either of our brains she would do what she had to do to survive – with me. I had to admit, I felt somewhat smug about that knowledge.

"I see. Can't say I blame you, I think if I were you I wouldn't want to go back to that guy, either. Have I mentioned that intelligent women who make sensible choices are a huge turn-on for me? But I digress. What you have to do is simple. After the first detonation the good, well-meaning soldiers will open fire, the remaining hostages be damned. Well, maybe except for him over there, but you'll be expendable. I will fire the whole magazine of my gun into the mass, then drop it and reach for the knife to cut you free. In the meantime you take the MP5, aim it right in front of you, and pull the trigger if anyone so much as looks as if he were to shoot at us. Which means you should do that the moment you have your finger on said trigger as they will be shooting, I guarantee you that. Once you're free we run, and hope that they don't gun us down. Easy peasy."

She gave another curt nod, then leaned a little into me, as if to draw strength from my closeness. Despite the whole situation it was a private moment that we shared while all around us the station kept filling with people, the TV crews still blocking the SWAT team's line of fire. Gotta love the media.

Then the people I had been waiting for finally arrived, heralded by a loud, and immediately followed upon, "US Marshals, get the fuck out of my way!"

I grinned brightly when Deputy Marge Gunderson pushed through the masses, leaving the gap for her burden to follow. She sneered at me silently, once again earning the name I had bestowed on her with her one-track approach to dealing with me. She's never bought my bullshit for a second, and if it were up to her alone I doubted I'd still be breathing. Sadly, for her, that wasn't the case.

The girl then noticed the kiss Five blew the marshal, and I could tell that she was bemused, but that quickly turned to outright incredulity when the other half of the Marshal team barged through the assembled troops, already beaming his telltale Colgate smile at the cameras. When he took his sunglasses off in that slow, deliberate gesture he thought of as dashing she couldn't hold a bark of laughter in, and I smirked at the way the sound drew attention away from him to her.

"Hush, he really doesn't like being laughed at! After all I've been taunting him for years, if you start now, too, that might destroy his fragile ego."

My voice rang through the suddenly silent hall, everyone picking up on my words as if they had been waiting for them. Which might even be true, considering our almost legendary previous conversations. He glared at me, as everyone else, ignoring the woman pressed against my body, then cleared his throat to better utter his opening words for everyone to hear.

"And so we meet again," he recited dramatically, and I was sure that if his hair had been long enough he would have given a dramatic shake of the head. Heads whipped around to him and he offered a tight-lipped smile of triumph, as if it was his doing that people hung on his every word, and not the fact that his son was a psychopathic mass murderer. Snorting, I turned back to the girl, resuming talking to her while everyone else listened in.

"You should know, he was running for Governor of New Mexico when I blew up the UNM Library. It was a really shitty library for a college, deserved to burn. Instead of gaining more power, he was scrutinized by everyone, and after his party withdrew their support actually had to take up his old job with the US Marshal Service again to wash his hands clean of guilt. Which reminds me, nice new sunglasses, Dad, so sorry your last ones got shot off your nose in Tampa!"

"That's your father?"

The doubt in her voice made me laugh again.

"Yup, in the flesh. He was so disappointed when I didn't graduate _summa cum laude_ from college, but I guess that was just the start. Or are you proud of me today, Dad? Not everyone has a son who made it into the FBI's Top Ten!"

I didn't expect him to react, and like usual he tried to show me his disapproval of my actions by ignoring me – not that I gave a shit. Instead of bothering to hurl more insults at him that would have made me seem petty I turned to the unassuming figure standing next to the marshals.

"And this must be the man of the hour, or at least the brave representative of the coward who fathered the bastard who's going to make us rich! May I presume that the bag you're carrying is holding the laptop that will be used for the transaction?"

The respectable looking, elder gentleman nodded, looking a little green around the gills.

"Very well. As I assume that you don't trust me and I don't trust you, please prepare your end of the deal. When you're done it would be outstanding if the lovely lady Marshal would carry the laptop over to my associate here, he has the numbers for the accounts we want the money transferred to."

The marshal in question gifted me with another icy glare before she handed her gun to her colleague, then took the offered laptop. I was surprised that no one even tried to make a fuss, but then again the imbecile's father was probably used to handing other people money in turn for them forgetting about his son's missteps. Her face betrayed no emotion at all as she stepped up to Five, offering him the laptop while she ignored his bright grin.

"Type in your account number and details. Please." The last she added rather grudgingly.

Clearly unwilling to let go of either his meat shield nor his gun Five leaned closer to her, and for a moment I was even afraid he would try to kiss her, which would without a doubt end with a second man losing his testicles in short order.

"Oh, I would love to, honey, but as you can see I don't have a hand free. I'm sure you'll gladly do that for me if I just ask nicely, right?"

She stared at him flatly before she gave a curt nod, then following his whispered words typed away. I could tell that he was teasing her from the way color kept creeping onto her cheeks – not the light blush of a woman flattered, but the deep, red anger promising violent and swift retribution. Five didn't seem to mind, and maybe even reveled in the moment, but eventually the transaction was done.

Not ten seconds later my phone went off, and I had to juggle my guns for a moment to get it out of my pocket. Beginner's error, I chided myself inside my head, but then the girl didn't seem too bent on getting her hands on my weapons any time soon. The fact that the marshal kept looking at her intently as if to tell her something with her eyes only didn't evade me, nor that the girl seemed grateful that finally someone was taking notice of her plight, as artificial as it might be.

"We got the money, they didn't even try to weasel out of it. Transferring it on now," came Two's brief account. She had already hung up when I acknowledged it with a cut-off, "Okay," before I slid the phone back into my pocket.

Glancing up I caught the marshal's gaze, snorting amusedly at her answering frown.

"Don't get any stupid ideas, you won't get her away from me unless I let her go. We've got the money, you can bring that little toy back to its owner. And thank you for your cooperation, Marshal."

Although it must have killed her not to sneer at me now she nodded, then walked back to the others, her back turned on us, as if without a care in the world. I admired that strength in her, if not her resilience of still sticking with her associates. We could have used someone with her conviction, but then again I didn't really see her as someone succumbing to a life of crime after working so hard against it for so long. I still noticed her shoulders sag with relief when she finally held her gun back in her hands. I could relate to that.

"Let the hostages go, we've done our half of the deal, now you do yours!"

I forced myself to relax and take a few deep breaths, steeling my body for what was to come. Not the killing, that didn't bother me, in fact never had. But somehow I doubted that my ingenious plan would work without me getting shot, stabbed, punched, or buried under parts of the collapsing building, and while I accepted the pain that was to come, that didn't mean I had to welcome it.

Turning back to the girl, I asked her one final time about her decision.

"Last chance to change your mind. As I said, if you don't want to come with me, I'll let you go now."

She took her sweet time replying, but there was nothing else I could say. If she really needed me to tell her that I wanted her to come, it was probably for the best if she decided against it after all.

Thankfully, she didn't.

"Not changing my mind. Looks like you're stuck with me."

I chuckled at her airy tone, then deliberately breathed onto her neck until she shivered.

"Too bad for me. Bad guy gets the money and the girl. Somehow I don't see Hollywood interested in buying that script."

Getting the detonator out of the same pocket the phone was once again occupying I turned my attention back to the assembled troops, making my voice carry once more.

"Not so fast, shouldn't I say something at this point, like a mission statement?"

"You never do that," my father unhelpfully supplied, clearly annoyed that I was once again stealing his show. Not that it was that hard to accomplish.

"Yeah, but I feel like change is coming. I'm growing weary of the same routine, I think I should jog things up a little bit. Don't you think so, too?"

"The only change will be that you won't get away this time! There are more than fifty guns pointed right at your head, do you think you can just disappear again?"

"Ah, I don't think so," I taunted, allowing myself a spat of glee at mocking him. "Fifty guns, several targets. There are also a lot of civilians here, and don't forget the charges we set up all over the building. Or did you think we accidentally ended up at the wrong address?"

Full of shit as he was, he ignored that warning, but his partner didn't, her eyes flitting upwards instantly to where the thick columns held the ceiling of the building aloft. My words also sent the bomb squad into a frenzy, but I chose not to focus on them. They wouldn't have enough time to counteract my plans anyway.

"Yes, that's right, we set charges. And we brought our own, in the car, and our lovely four hostages are each carrying enough C-4 to blow up the better part of your fifty guns if we send them running right at you. So take a breath and let me make my statement, will you? You never were one to listen to me, maybe that's going to change now."

"By all means, then, give your statement!"

Chuckling derisively, I turned back to the girl.

"Anything come to your mind, oh Goddess of Inventive Nicknames? Because I seriously can't think of anything except a quote those idiots won't understand."

She gave that some thought, but then shook her head.

"Do they have to understand it? I figured you'd think you were demeaning yourself by lowering your statements to their intellectual level."

"You're right. I'm indeed a very lucky man," I replied dryly, then went on loud enough for everyone to hear me.

"A very wise man once said that 'we must act, act perpetually in order to be human, in order to possess real awareness of ourselves' – this man was Mikhail Bakunin. I doubt any of you imbeciles have ever heard of him, but that doesn't make his words any less true. You think I'm a monster, but I say in taking actions, in doing what has to be done to cleanse our society of the garbage it has been accumulating for centuries I am the one who is human, while all of you just follow orders. You're sheep, unaware of who you are or why you are here. If you possess even a shred of self-awareness, you will lay down your guns and go. Let this be your first action, break out, be someone!"

Of course there was an utter lack of reaction to my words, making me laugh softly.

"Oh I think that went quite well. Anyway, the hostages, right."

Raising the hand I held the gun and detonator with, I turned my wrist so that everyone could see the device in my palm.

"This detonator is remotely linked to its counterparts on the explosive harnesses each of the hostages is wearing. Once I activate it, they will go off one after the other, set at a fifteen second intervals. You have no way of knowing in which order they will detonate, but with the second and fourth we will also start letting the charges set inside the building structure go off. Good luck trying to disable any one of them, but three separate ones are inside the van, in the garbage disposal area in the foyer, and near the soda vending machine. They didn't have any Pepsi," I explained, inwardly laughing at the hilarity of the statement.

With a nearly careless motion I activated the detonator, then the alarm sequence on my watch, before I threw the control into the gap between our lines, right next to one of the news teams.

"Oops, I guess that means the countdown has started. First charge going up in eleven, ten-"

That was when I saw that Nine had switched back to being the imbecile he seemed to be ever so often, as he still held his hostage securely, with only nine more seconds until the harness would blow them both to bloody globs and fine red mist.

"Fucking idiot, don't make me tell you again, pay attention!"

Nine's head whipped around then as if only now he had realized what was going on – which was probably the case, the way he had been screaming at the SWAT team right in front of him. Finally coming to his senses he violently shoved the guy he had been holding towards the troopers, and in the same motion turned around and ran in the opposite direction.

Unimpressed by the bad timing of their comrade, the two sleeper agents we had planted in the police force then opened fire, coinciding with the five seconds warning signal of my watch, just on time. Meanwhile several of the commanding officers of the various task forces bellowed at their men to shoot, which they did, but noticeably too slow as they were gunned down by what they had presumed was some of their own. Friendly fire just isn't. For once the plan seemed to have worked, and I took a moment to revel in the chaos rising all around us.

Aiming my own gun in the general direction of the marshals I tried to ignore the girl as she started to scream, the sounds almost immediately getting drowned out by my ears both losing most of their capacity to pick up sound. Gunshots at close range will do that to you, even with light sound protection.

I more felt than heard the first C-4 pack on the harness go off, and my magazine ran empty, rendering the gun in my hand useless as I didn't have the time to reload and cut her free. Letting go of the SIG I pushed the MP5 into her stomach, silently begging her to get her shit together and take it as we were slowly running out of time. She hesitated, staring out into the mayhem in front of us, and for a moment I thought I had lost her. But then her hands yanked on the cool metal in my grip, and I let go, going for my knife.

I felt her fumbling around for a moment but then she stilled, right before one of the SWAT team members came running in our direction. Cursing under my breath I let go of the harness to reach for my other SIG, but she had already sent a badly aimed bout of fire his way. Bullets bit into flesh, and while probably not fatal, they wounded him enough to make him drop to the floor, no longer an immediate problem. As I had the gun out already I emptied it into the FBI scramble to our right, killing at least two and hopefully wounding a lot more.

Finally slicing through the thick straps that held the harness in place I was momentarily interrupted by the next C-4 pack blowing up, together with one of the two base charges on the building. The whole world around us seemed to shake, plaster and debris raining down on us. Feeling a tendril of panic I yanked the knife upwards, not caring whether I cut her in the motion or not. We were out of time and I needed to get the contraption off her, she could blame me for the scar later if she was still alive.

The harness finally gave way and I tore it off her, forcing her to drop the gun in the motion. For a second we stood separated, and some lucky bastard used the moment to take aim at me. Pain flamed up my lower torso and across my left thigh, and I saw the girl jerk twice next to me as bullets from the same submachine gun ate into her, but luckily got stopped by the vest.

Nausea hit me for a moment as my body reacted to the pain, but the faint beeping of the five seconds alarm got my mind to focus again. While I forced myself to get up and launch the harness into the writhing mass of bodies before us the girl had picked up the MP5 again and was wildly shooting at nothing in particular, but the action was enough to cover me.

We both watched the harness sail through the air, and even before it could touch the ground the explosives went off. The shock wave sent the soldiers who weren't completely blown to pieces to the ground, but until it reached us it had lost most of its kinetic energy, barely making me stumble.

Blindly groping around I found her hand, then yanked us both into motion, running away from where the remaining troops were slowly rallying. My whole left side was killing me but thankfully my body went into shock before I had taken two steps, making me stumble but kept moving me towards the back of the hall.

The girl was lagging behind just as my watch gave the last signal, and I quickly raised my fingers, then balled them into a fist and extended them again as I nodded in the general direction of the van. We were still inside the blast radius and I needed her to move faster, but she caught my meaning well enough. Abandoning her previous wide-eyed looking around she sped up. Silently counting down as I angled us towards the maintenance hallway that loomed ahead I tightened my grip on her fingers, trying to hold on to her as I waited for the inevitable.

Too soon the last charges fired, the resulting shock wave slamming us forward and right into the wall next to the hallway. I knew things were bad when I didn't register much besides the impact, but years of discipline let me drag her up and into the small room just around the corner.

Letting go of her I yanked my knife out and unceremoniously cut the legs of my pants, briefly checking the damage. Three bullets still inside my leg, the forth, higher up a clean through and through wound that was leaking blood. No major artery seemed to be affected so I just got out the bandages and did my best attempt at first aid, staunching the blood and putting pressure on the wounds.

Looking up I saw her still studying the supplies stashed inside, but a quick yank on her sleeve got her ditching her own clothes. Gritting my teeth I kicked off my boots, then donned the baggy cargo pants that did a great job hiding the bandages. I was nearly done lacing up my Chucks when she stepped into her new shoes, staring transfixedly at them for a moment. I asked her whether they fit but she obviously still couldn't hear me, so I dropped the matter and straightened. Helping me rid myself of the fake beard she then turned around to go, but I held her back, trying again to explain my intent to her. She just cocked her head, still too deaf to make out my words, so all I could do was utter a low, "I'm sorry!" as I went ahead and wound her hair around my hand, cutting most of it off at the nape of her neck.

She whipped around and stared at me for a moment, but when she saw that most of what I had cut off was burned and clumped together, beyond hope of ever looking like hair again anyway, she shrugged. Haphazardly chopping the remaining clumps out where my gun had singed it I tried my best not to mutilate her further, but at least the remaining hair did a good job now to hide most of her bruises as it tickled her jawline.

Before we left the relative safety of the room I got my backup Beretta out of the backpack and shoved it into the back of the waistband of my cargos. A bad place to stash a gun, but considering that I didn't expect to have to use it, it was a good way to conceal it. Taking her hand I pushed her outside, and at the next corridor crossing we integrated seamlessly with the panicked masses streaming towards the exit.

Just as planned we walked outside without getting held up, and as the fresh air hit her face the girl turned towards me, grinning at me brightly. I smiled at her and hugged her close, wincing over her shoulder where she couldn't see when the contact got my wounds pounding with pain.

The chaos outside was barely more ordered than the one we had left behind us, police and EMTs standing around everywhere. As we slowly picked our way out of the secured perimeter one of the cops looked at us a little too closely, but it just took me pushing my hand hard into where I remembered her getting shot to make her wail in pain, in what the officer presumed was the onset of a panic attack. He turned away fast and busied himself with glaring at someone else, earning a derisive snort from me. Serve and protect, my ass.

My hearing got better by the minute as we crossed the street, then went down another, angling towards the first of several meeting points. With luck the others would already be waiting for us, or reach it within minutes of us, but we still had three more should that fail. When we arrived I stopped, then pulled her close and stroked her cheek before I kissed her, inhaling the sharp scent of burnt hair and sweat coming off her. She protested for a moment but then gave in, deepening the kiss until she was moaning against my mouth.

A stupid sense of elation flooded me, and I couldn't bring myself to fight it. I knew that while we had escaped the station, our get-away was by far not over yet, but just standing there with her in my arms made me want to shout at the top of my lungs, and if my leg would permit it, fuck her bent over the hood of the next car.

The expected arrival of the hideous blue BMW SUV distracted me then, and I grinned at Two beaming at us from behind the steering wheel with her magenta hat and sunglasses. I caught the keys she threw at me, nodding a silent thanks.

"Silver Volvo, eight cars down from you. Before you start bitching, I tuned it myself, that baby could win a Formula 1 race. Bandages are under the seat, morphine and the Fat Lady in the glove compartment. Love the new hair cut, but next time, maybe use scissors. Just a thought."

I grinned at the girl when she shot me a shocked look; Two usually took a little getting used to, but she was as fast and efficient with everything else as she was with talking. Before I could add anything One came loping across the lane in surfer shorts, brightly colored t-shirt and flip-flops, chucking his joint away to lean into the car and kiss Two fervently.

"Missed ya, too, babe."

Nine was right on his heels, although instead of following One and Five's example and getting into the car he glared at the girl, my arm still wrapped around her middle.

"You got to be fucking kidding me! Why did you bring the bitch with you?"

My impulse was to just shoot him on the spot, but I knew how much the exhilaration of having eluded certain death could screw with your brain, so I gave him a warning look instead.

"Got a problem with my decision, then take it up with me."

Of course he was too dumb for his own good and ignored it.

"It's just, eleven is an awful number to divide the money by!"

"You're so right."

Shooting him right in the face was one of the most satisfying things I had done in a long, long time. I watched as his body dropped to the floor, where it twitched as I sent two more bullets between his eyes. The gun barely made a sound thanks to the silencer, and I could even make out Two snorting with amusement.

"Thank God you finally offed him, he's been getting on my nerves since he nearly lost it in Biloxi!"

"Ah, whatever," Five grunted as he got out of the car to pick up the body and drag it with him up into the back seat again.

"Take care of the roses! It's bad enough that you now get blood all over my car, but do you have any idea how hard it was to find forty yellow roses?" Two bitched, but Five only laughed at her.

"Speaking of which, she was right behind me when I left the station, if you double back we can probably still get to her before she takes off!"

One saluted me one-handed as Two backed up the car so she could speed off, sending the baby blue abomination down the street. Letting go of her I slid my fingers into the girl's hand, then pulled her along in the other direction. I didn't have to count the cars to know which one Two had picked for us, but that didn't help much.

"Why does she have to torture me like that? I mean, a Soccer Mom car?"

The girl laughed at my antics, then slid into the passenger seat, a low whine leaving her as the motion hurt her torso anew. Reaching for the pack of syringes inside the driver side door I uncapped one, then sent the needle into her upper arm. She eyed me curiously, and I shrugged.

"Morphine, remember, she mentioned it. I can't take much because I need a clear head to drive, but that doesn't mean you have to tough it out."

In fact I was sure that if I dosed myself up I wouldn't be able to drive at all, even though the remaining shots sang their siren song loud and clear. The girl smiled in return, then reached for her seat belt, and I did the same. My leg was killing me as I eased into the light traffic and shifted to the higher gears, but I forced myself to ignore it. If we got away I could spend the rest of the day cursing at the top of my lungs while One pried the bullets from my thigh, but until we were safely across the border I couldn't allow myself that luxury.

Once we hit the road leading out of the city I lit a cigar, taking a deep pull just as she started to laugh.

"Fat Lady, like in the movie? Sorry to tell you but I found neither Jeff Goldblum nor Will Smith very appealing in it."

"No? Well, I guess the best part was where they blew up the White House. Worth seeing it for all the other crap every time."

"What, that your next plan?" she inquired, and while her tone was still light I got the feeling that if my answer were affirmative, it wouldn't even shock her.

"Nah, I don't do political statements. Our government is fucked up enough as it is, they don't need my help to send the country spiraling into anarchy. I'll just lean back and watch, if you don't mind."

"Sounds like a plan," she replied, then leaned further back in her seat and closed her eyes, looking content for lack of a better word.

We then reached the highway, and I allowed myself to relax a little as no car seemed to be following us. I even contemplated ditching the usual routine and just take the next exit to go to the beach and spend the rest of the day with her, lazing in the sun.

Giving myself a mental shake I gripped the steering wheel harder, then caved and got one of the red capped syringes out of the bag at my side. Adrenaline, not morphine, although the fact that it only made my heart race for a couple of minutes didn't bode well. I couldn't allow myself to go into systemic shock now, and the weird images of peaceful bliss together told me just how close I was. Normally I lived for the chase, running away from the authorities usually being the fun part of our missions. Fuck.

Sticking to routine as a guiding light to get me through the rest of the day I switched on the radio, then skipped stations until I found the right one. Nodding at the girl I asked her to assemble one of the phones inside the glove compartment and hand it to me, then dialed the number from memory.

My call went through immediately, and the husky voice on the radio cut off as they must have signaled her that they were patching me through. I grinned at the girl, affirming her guess, and reduced the volume of the radio to kill any of the amateurish feedback so many people couldn't care to avoid.

"Good afternoon, Grace," I greeted her, pitching my voice to casual, friendly banter.

"Hello, I was waiting for your call. Scuttlebutt has it you didn't make it."

I laughed, puffing on my cigar.

"They always say that. Doesn't make it any more true. Which reminds me, in about ten minutes you should get a delivery from me. Don't worry, it's just a video tape. I hope you enjoy it."

There was a pointed silence, and Grace still sounded wary when she asked the next question.

"I just heard that we have your mother on the other line, I presume you want to talk to her?"

"Please, that would be so nice of you."

Turning to my silent companion, I explained.

"It's a ritual we've developed over time. The FBI has her house bugged so I can't call directly, and WICC was happy enough to give us some time on air. You see, apparently airing conversations between psychopaths and their weeping mothers is good for ratings."

She seemed surprised to hear that I still kept some form of contact with my family, besides trying to kill my father. Hearing my mother's voice got me refocusing again.

"Anthony, I'm so happy to hear your voice! Your father just called ten minutes ago telling me he was sure you were killed in the explosion!"

I sighed, rolling my eyes at her insistence on calling me by the name that son of a whore had branded me with.

"Mom, I ask you every time not to use that name anymore. You know that your little Tony died years ago."

"So you say!" she wailed, but when her antics didn't get her anywhere she sighed, trying for the reason she knew I loved about her. Without my father's influence, she could have been a woman worth admiring. "Very, well. Edward, then. Although I still don't understand why you use that name."

Now the girl was staring at me with raised eyebrows, making me shrug.

"Edward Cullen, if you have to know."

She gave a weird sound somewhere between a choke and a laugh.

"Like in -"

"Yeah, exactly like in the books. And movies." I gave a comical shudder.

"Seriously? Why?"

"I found it funny at the time when I was penning my first claim of responsibly for the library burning. It kind of stuck."

She shook her head, then looked again at me as if I were crazy, which very probably was the case.

"And what does that make me then, Bella Swan?"

"If you want to be," I offered, then turned back to the phone.

"Sorry, I got distracted for a moment. As I said, I'm not dead yet, and I don't intend to change anything about that state. I hope you don't have any objections."

"Of course not, sweetie! If you could just, you know, stop killing people, that would take a lot off my heart."

"Ah, did the psychiatrist make you say that again? Don't listen to them, you know I'm doing the right thing."

"Tony, please -"

I put the phone down, gnashing my teeth as I tried to calm again and not hurl it right out of the window.

"Listen, maybe this will brighten your mood. I met the most wonderful girl. Her name's Bella. You should meet her, she's as bright as she's beautiful, and she has a hell of a good aim when she snaps."

My mom gave a shaky laugh at that, not sounding too sincere when she went on.

"I'm so happy that you found someone to share your … interests with, honey. Maybe you want to come visit me one day? I'm sure Sheila would love to say hi to her, too. She's made so much progress since you left."

"Sheila?"

I glanced over to her, guardedly gauging her reaction. "My sister."

"But I thought you … so you didn't kill her?"

"Nah. Would have been a mercy to kill her, bitch didn't deserve it. But the severe brain damage sent her into a coma for years, and ever since she awoke she's been reduced to senseless babbling. But if you look into her eyes, you still see the intelligence in them. I'm pretty sure she understands every word but her brain's too messed up to control her body anymore. Locked inside a hideous, disfigured meat suit, I found that quite fitting when I visited her the last time."

She looked positively ill at that, but tried to hide her revulsion by gazing out the window. I guessed I couldn't blame her for her reaction – death was by far not the worst that could happen to a person. I dropped the issue and went back to my other conversation instead. There would be time aplenty for her to ask me about it later, provided there was a later for us.

"Anything else you wanted to say? It was fun meeting dad again, I see him so much more since I picked up bloody murder and violence. He never was home much when I went to high school and college."

"Oh don't say that, you know your father and I both love you, and -"

My attention was pulled away from her voice when the car behind us honked, then the blue abomination drew abreast with us. Cursing inside I only permitted myself a strained exhale as they waved at us, then threw Nine's body out of the rear hatch and onto the three lane wide highway. They honked again, then Two floored the pedal, making the SUV shoot ahead with its tail of police cars following.

"Mom, as much as I'd like to keep talking, we kind of have a situation here. Love you, too. Until next time!"

"Listen to me, please -"

Opening the window I threw the phone out, watching just long enough until the car behind us drove right over it. More marked and unmarked police cars overtook us on both sides, but I knew we had run out of luck when I recognized the dark Ford switching lanes in the mirror.

"Ah, shit," I uttered succinctly, then turned to the girl. "If you reach behind you, at the back of the seat are the racing belts. Put that on instead of your normal seat belt, you'll need it."

She didn't reply but obeyed my order immediately, and I followed suit while I kept accelerating.

"Hold on to something, I'm taking that exit."

"What exi -" she was about to ask, then cut off suddenly as I pulled the car to the right abruptly while breaking, sending us spinning so I could backtrack the last few yards to reach the lane leading off the highway. As soon as I felt the tires regain traction I accelerated again, hitting the winding coastal road hard.

Too bad my father's second was a hell of a driver, and the two SWAT vans right behind her didn't bode well as I hadn't seen them on the highway before. Either the blood loss was affecting me more than I noticed, or they had indeed ambushed us, neither option really better than the other.

I did my best to shake them off as I recklessly pivoted the car around the others currently on the road, sparing only a glance for the girl as she gripped the upholstery frantically.

"How did they find us?"

"Luck, if you ask me! It happened once before, took me three days to shake them off." Although technically I hadn't managed that, but the result was the same when the bullets of my last remaining magazine chewed their way into the last remaining agent's brain.

"Three days?"

Just as she asked that my eyes made out what lay ahead, confirming my suspicion.

"Don't worry, I don't think that will be our problem much longer," I replied dryly.

She kept staring at me for a few more seconds, then her eyes shot forward, latching onto the road block ahead of us. I didn't need to count the eleven cars to know that this, inevitably, was the end of the road.

Sadness swept through me as I saw the light in her eyes die when her hopes were crushed, but she didn't wail nor cry, instead turned to me with calm acceptance on her face. I took the moment she needed to swallow and open her mouth to make my own decision of how to proceed. I knew all too well what lay ahead for me – death. If I was lucky, someone would shoot me right in the head, if not three syringes of toxin after years spent with the whole nation gawking at me. I had long ago come to accept that, and on some level I even knew I deserved it. I had killed without mercy or remorse for my own goals, a selfish creature if there ever had been one. I still didn't regret a second of it, although looking at her now I felt a little bitter that we hadn't had more time together.

I had always pictured myself going out with a bang, particularly as I wasn't looking forward to giving anyone the chance to render me so helpless as having to wait on Death Row would make me. Now I was asking myself if for her I could be selfless for once and accept defeat, if that even was her wish. Somehow the thought of letting the cops drag her away from me was more unbearable than the notion of drawing my gun and killing her myself.

"So that's it? They're going to stop us, arrest us, and I'll never see you again?"

Our eyes met for a moment, and I realized that she wouldn't force me to make that decision.

"Not if you don't want to."

"What else can we do? I'm sure that if we stop and try to reverse, they'll catch us all the same."

She didn't even sound as if she considered that an option, she was just stating the facts.

"That's true," I conceded. "But we don't have to be sitting ducks and let them slap their cuffs around our wrists. There's always one other option."

She gave that some thought, but answered before we were around the next bend in the road.

"Do you regret it? Meeting me, taking me with you I mean? Alone you might have been faster, or, I don't know, gotten away somehow."

That made me laugh, gallow's humor perhaps.

"No. I'll never regret finding you. Do you?"

"No."

"So?"

"Let's do it."

Grinning, I took her hand in mine, then wrapped them both around the hand break. Her eyes remained locked on mine as I lost myself in hers for a last time. She smiled, a true smile, devoid of sadness or regret, but full of emotion.

"I love you, pumpkin."

"I love you, honey bunny," I quoted back, not caring if she just wanted to make her last words count, or really meant it. In the end, it didn't really matter anyway.

Then I yanked the steering wheel hard to the side as I pulled the break, at the same time hitting the clutch hard with my foot to send the car into its last uncontrolled spin. I grinned at her then, watching as panic flooded her face, but her gaze held mine steadily.

As we went over the side of the cliff, I never looked away from her face, not as vertigo hit me, not as she started to scream, not ever.

FIN.

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><p><strong>I hope you enjoyed it. I bet you have something to say now.<strong>


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